An American Adventure
by Grizziesmom
Summary: John is sent to America by Mycroft to meet up with Sherlock five months after Reichenbach Fall. He's grieved for Sherlock and come to the realization that he is in love with him. This is their reunion and the aftermath of RF. Sequel to Stages of Grief. Not necessary to read, but is helpful. Rated M for future chapters.
1. Paranoia Much?

**OK, folks...so here it is! The sequel to Stages of Grief! (or, at least the beginning of it!) I'm kind of interested to see how this goes. It IS rated M for future chapters, but it kind of starts off a little slow. Adventure and travel and lots of sex...yes, LOTS...Doc is very obsessed with Sherlock in EVERY way...could even get a little on the kinky side...just sayin' ;-P Enjoy!**

* * *

He heard his phone buzz on the bedside table and grabbed it.

_gud AM, lov! 2day we C ea oder! ck yr emsg b4 u leav!_

John grinned as he rolled over and placed his feet on the floor. He was actually beginning to easily understand Sherlock's text shorthand. He was happier than he had been in months. The fact that he was going to see Sherlock before the end of the day was definitely for the reason for the bounce in his step and the smile on his face.

He opened his laptop and set it to booting as he made his morning tea. He drank the warm brew as he pulled up Sherlock's email and was happy to see he had actually written it out longhand.

_My John,_

_Good morning! I know you are probably sipping your morning cuppa as you read this. I can see you in your robe, hunched over your computer and wish I could be there to be reading this over your shoulder. I cannot wait until you are here with me. I have missed you so much and so many things to tell you!_

_Just a few things as a reminder:_

_First, you will most likely be followed as you leave the flat. This is to be expected. The man who was Moriarty's right hand is now in charge and has a tail on you and Mrs. Hudson. You are both fine. She is fine. They will do nothing as long as they do not suspect I am alive. _

_I ask that you use your best acting skills and look sufficiently harried and distressed as you leave. My brother has "let it get out" that you are leaving the country because you cannot stand to be around people who remind you of me. It is best this way._

_Second, please wear something into which you can easily change. Take the hat that I hid from Mycroft the last time he visited. It is in the wardrobe in my room. Also, take a coat, preferably not your leather. While I love your leather jacket on you, it has become very distinguishable as yours. I'm sorry; you must part with it for your own safety at this point. Leave it at Baker Street. I'm sure Mrs. Hudson will keep it for your return. Don't wear either the hat or coat as you leave the flat as you will want them to confuse Moran's man at Heathrow._

_Lastly, Michael, the family driver will drop you at the terminal and will go no further with you. However, he is fully aware of Moran's tail. Follow his instructions for when you get to the terminal and you should be safe._

_I must let you go now, so you can get here! I will see you soon, my love!_

_-S_

John chuckled at Sherlock's paranoia as he shut down the computer and stuffed it into his travel case. For all their protestations, the Holmes brothers were so much alike. The last time Mycroft had pulled John from the streets of London, he'd been given a warning about being followed. John had blown him off at first. Then, several hours after the warning, he had noticed the bloke who had been helping Mrs. Hudson about the house the week before Sherlock's jump. Once he'd seen him, John saw the man more often than coincidence would allow.

He jumped in the shower quickly and shaved. He dug through his wardrobe to find a comfortable pair of jeans and a dress shirt covered with one of his favorite jumpers. He grabbed the dress coat that Harry had given him for Christmas just before he'd gone to Afghanistan. He'd worn it all of three times, including to Sherlock's funeral. He laughed at that thought. A jacket he never used for a day that wasn't necessary. Ironic. He knew that he could easily pitch it in the rubbish and not have any second thoughts about it.

He went into Sherlock's room and pulled the fedora from the wardrobe shelf as the bell rang at the front door. He went back to his room and grabbed his travel case and his old Army duffle. Slinging the duffle over one shoulder, he stuffed the hat into the travel case and threw the coat over his arm. He took one long last look around the room before he jogged down the stairs to open the door to his next adventure with Sherlock!

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**_Ok...like I said, slow start...but ya gotta start somewhere, right? Read and review, folks! Ya know the drill...make Doc happy and Doc makes y'all happy!_**


	2. The Drive and Take Off

**I apologize for the delay. Once again, Doc has me working diligently on about four different projects...He and I are currently arguing about whether I'm going to ever get to move forward on a couple of OC stories that I want to finish...so far, he's winning...and who am I to argue, right? At least I'm putting things down and compelteing stories! That's SO much better than my last muse...Anyway, this chapter doesn't move the story foreward as much as I'd like, but it was kind of necessary to show some things for the future chapters. Hope you like!**

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The Holmes' family driver, Michael stood outside 221 Baker Street as John opened the door. Michael was about 6'2" with graying hair and a small goatee. He wore the typical driver's uniform of a black suit and tie and cap. He nodded at John and gave a small smile.

"Sir, I'm here to take you to the airport," he said.

"You must be Michael," John said, "I haven't met you before, but I have heard of you."

"Yes, sir," he said with a wry smirk, "May I take your bags?"

"Thanks," John said with a smile, handing him the duffle bag and travel case.

Michael took the bags and stowed them in the boot of the car. John stepped the few steps to the door and had it open before Michael could shut the boot and come back to his side of the car. John gazed surreptitiously around the neighborhood, feeling a little sad. He had a feeling it would be a very long time before he saw Baker Street again. He noticed the maintenance chap that had been following him talking to someone in a dark, late-model SUV down the street. He caught Michael's eye over the roof of the car. Michael nodded imperceptibly and then climbed int the front of the car. John got in the car and pulled his mobile from his pocket

_Tail spotted. Mike's on it. – MFS_

**_Gud. Dnt let Michael heA U cll him Mike! LOL_**

_LOL. OK. I won't – MFS_

**_Kip me n d loop_**

_Will do – MFS_

As Michael pulled away from 221 Baker, John risked a last glance back at the building and noticed the SUV pulling from its spot.

"We're not going to try to lose him, Mr. Smith," Michael said seriously, "My employer said there was no point. He made sure people knew you flying out, but nobody knows where."

"I'm going-"

"Don't say, sir," he interrupted, catching John's eye. "I don't know and really don't need to know. That's between you and my employer."

"OK," John said quietly, feeling slightly chastised.

As they approached Heathrow, Michael started giving instructions.

"Once I drop you, go straight to the lavatory. At some point, change your look. Use reflective surfaces to look behind you. Never turn your head to look behind you. Right now, they think you don't know you're being followed. Therefore, they are a little more lax in their tail, which is to your advantage. But if you look back, they will realize their mistake and up their game.

"If you do need to look behind you to check your tail, make it look like you are lost or confused. Never keep your gaze on any one person too long and don't make eye contact with anyone you don't need to. Understand?"

"Understood," John said with a grin. Suddenly, he was curious and wanted to know, "How long have you worked for your employer?"

Michael caught his eye in the mirror again. John held his eye steadily. Something in John's face must have made Michael feel safe in answering.

"I've worked for my current employer's father when my employer was twelve…So I would say about twenty-five years or so?" he said with a slight smile.

John blinked.

"Wow," he said honestly, "I would have never guessed."

Michael smiled slightly and said, "I get that a lot. But these old eyes and ears have seen and heard a lot."

John saw Michael's eyes turn sad. It was in that moment he realized this man could tell him more about Sherlock than he'd learned in the last two and a half years. But he also knew that Mycroft would never allow that.

They pulled up to the terminal. Michael got out and grabbed John's duffle bag from the boot. John exited the car and stood on the curb as Michael brought it to him, his hand out. John took it and shook it.

"Thanks for all your help, Michael," John said genuinely, "I hope to see you in a couple of weeks."

Michael pulled John a little closer and said, "Tell Mr. Sherlock to hurry home, sir. The family misses him somethin' terrible."

John schooled his face not to show shock as he pulled back. It was his turn to nod imperceptibly before he turned and headed toward the entrance doors. He looked back at Michael and waved, catching a glimpse of the handyman getting out of the SUV that had followed them there. He quickly turned back and headed straight to the lavatory as Michael had suggested.

He went into the handicapped stall to change his clothes. He removed the small duffle bag he had stowed in the pack and folded up the larger to stuff in the bottom of the smaller. He pulled off his jumper and traded his trainers for a pair of brown dress shoes. He stuffed the jumper and trainers into the duffle and pulled the dress coat on. He rumpled his hair, making it look completely wild. He stepped out of the stall and found himself facing a mirror. He looked nothing like what he had when he'd stepped into the lavatory ten minutes before.

_'Perfect,'_ he thought and head out to the gates. He checked a departure board and found that he had about ten minutes to get through security before boarding would begin. There was nothing to be done about it. He needed to be past security sooner rather than later. Before he turned to head to his gate, he used the trick Michael had told him and noticed his tail searching the crowd. Apparently his quick change had been enough to confuse the guy for the moment. He texted Sherlock.

_Quick change has confused the tail. Heading to the gate now. MFS_

**_Bcful SYS_**

He quickly stepped away from the boards and headed to the gate. As he stood in line at the security check point, he used the skills Sherlock had taught him during their time together to observe the people around him.

He was careful not to stare at any one person too long. He made quick decisions as to whether someone was a danger to him or not and moved on when he could determine they weren't. Before he knew it, he was through the check point and was heading in the general direction of his gate.

Checking the time on his mobile, he realized he had timed everything just right. He heard the call for final boarding for his flight and headed that way.

He arrived at the gate and waited on the outskirts of the area, making sure to look like he was not interested in that particular flight until he saw that everyone else in the boarding area was on the ramp. The attendant was making the motions to close the door to the ramp. He caught the attendant's eye and headed straight for her. He handed her his ticket and she smiled.

"You just made it, sir. You're our last passenger and we're closing the doors now."

"Thank you," he said politely and headed down the ramp. It wasn't until he got into his seat in first class that he let himself breathe just a little bit easier.

As soon as the plane took off for the US, he allowed himself to relax enough to doze in and out of sleep for the flight.

* * *

_OK...hopefully things will move along a little faster now...You ALL know the routine...R&R=3_


	3. Connection

**So Happy Christmas and all that rot. This is a bit of short chapter, only because I wanted to get something up today. I've been working on this, but DocWatson has been a bit on the quiet side the last few days...figures that the weekend I have the whole house to myself and no distractions, he goes and hides on me...Trying desperately to coax him into the light, but I think he's gotten a little shy with all the attention The Hobbit has brought to his namesake...Hoping to get through a couple more chapters here today...if not, Have a great holiday!**

* * *

He was surprised at how easy the rest of the trip was. He'd texted Sherlock as soon as they had landed.

_Arrived at JFK. Think I've lost the tail, but going to change look again just in case. MFS_

**_Gud. Stay alert. Nt lng now._**

When the plane arrived at JFK in New York City, he was the first to deplane. He had immediately gone to the lavatories and changed once again. He changed into a different jumper from earlier, ditched the coat and put on the now very crumpled fedora.

He exited the lavatory and was careful to look about. He knew that just because he had given Moran's guy the slip in England didn't mean that there wouldn't possibly be someone in New York.

He spotted a suspicious character lounging at the café across the way from the lavatory seemingly pretending to read a magazine. John's first thought was _'Who reads magazines these days?'_ He passed the guy as he headed to another restaurant down the way. The guy made a point of catching his eye and winked! John tried not to acknowledge the gesture, but started chuckling as soon as he got a decent distance away.

He spent a half an hour grabbing a quick bite of some chain restaurant's fare and then headed in the general direction of his new terminal and gate. He continued to keep a wary watch, looking for anything untoward that might show a spy in his midst. Again, he waited until the last minute to get on his plane and texted Sherlock just before they taxied down the runway.

_Still no tail. All's well._

**_Phat, bt kip wary._**

John chuckled as he shut his phone down for the flight. Sherlock's insane penchant to use texting lingo always made him laugh, but 'Phat' for 'Excellent'? Wow. That took the cake.

Before he knew it, he was landing in Washington, DC at Reagan International Airport.


	4. The Mandarin Oriental - Washington, DC

**Boy, I love days like this! Since it's between the holidays, I'm getting SO much done at work that has nothing to do with work! Doc and I worked on this last night, to be honest, but I wanted to finish this and the next chapter (and a couple of other chapters for other stories) before continuing with this one. So sorry that my Christmas for Sherlock and John did not coincide with the actual one...But what do you do when your muse decides to hide for three days? Anyway, another not so long one, but should have the reunion up shortly! Hugs and Happy Holidays!**

* * *

The short trip from Reagan International was not any worse than a normal day on the Tube. He followed the directions the attendant had given him to the hotel that had been booked in his name, keeping an eye out for a follower, but he never saw one.

The opulence of the lobby of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel took John's breath away. He had seen beautiful lobbies in many an attractive hotel all over the world. The Mandarin Oriental really took the cake for him. He stopped just inside the entryway to observe the stunning room that led to the rest of the hotel. The marble floor of the spacious rotunda had an unusual three-tone geometric pattern surrounded by a set of double columns in dark mahogany and marble. The coved ceiling was well lit over a large Christmas tree decked out in reds, whites and golds in the center of the room. To his right he could see a small bar and behind the tree and to the left, he could see a very lavish restaurant with balcony seating which he supposed would be quite nice in the spring and summer. Immediately to his left was the reception desk. It wasn't the typical counter set-up that most hotels had. Instead, it was created from two extremely large executive desks of deep mahogany wood and marble tops. John stepped up to one of the desks.

"Um, uh, hi," he said, clearing his throat before continuing, "I'm Marty Smith. I believe I have a reservation for tonight?"

The young lady seated behind the desk stood up and offered her hand.

"Yes, Mr. Smith," she said with a bright smile, "Welcome to the Mandarin! I hope your trip wasn't too tedious?"

"Tedious enough," he said with a small grin, "But I like it that way."

She smiled again as she turned away to get his check in packet.

"Oh, I have a message for you, sir! Let's get you checked in and up to your suite…It looks like we have you in the Waterview Oriental. That's one of my favorites!" she looked up from the paperwork and smiled again, "It looks like Ambassador Holmes has taken care of all charges for you, so I will just need your signature here."

She pointed out the line that he was to sign on and he reminded himself to sign as Martin F Smith. She handed him his keycard and the envelope with Sherlock's handwriting on it.

"Excellent," she said with yet another smile and gave him directions to the suite, "Did you need assistance with your bag, sir?"

"No, thanks," he said, "I'll be fine."

"Well, then, Mr. Smith," she said, offering her hand again, "Enjoy your stay with us and have a Merry Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas to you, as well," he replied and turned away to head to the suite. Suddenly, he was very tired and could barely keep his eyes open.

He walked to the elevator and slid his finger under the flap of the envelope as the doors slid closed behind him.

_You've made it! Excellent! It should be about 6 o'clock pm by the time you get this. I have made reservations for us in the City Zen Restaurant at 9 pm. Take some time to relax, clean up from your flight, and perhaps take a nap? I know it has been a very long day for you, my love. I have a few things I need to do before I see you, but I will see you soon._

_All my love,_

_Sher_

John wanted to scream. He had travelled all day and now Sherlock wanted to wait another three hours. He did admit, however, that he truly needed some sleep. He had slept a bit once on the plane from Heathrow, but not as solidly as he would have liked.

He keyed himself into the suite and took a cursory look around. Orienting himself enough to find the room, he dropped his bag, dropped his clothes and dropped onto the bed. He told himself that he would only sleep for an hour and then get up and get ready for dinner before he closed his eyes and passed out.

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_Told you it was short! I know, I can be so cruel! This hotel IS a real hotel. It's gorgeous beyond gorgeous! I've taken some liberties for the story, but most of the descriptions are based wholly in fact around the hotel. Check it out online...like I said, I think it is amazing! As usual, read, respond and review...my favorite 3R's!_


	5. Reunion

**OK, folks! As promised, at least one more chapter before heading home for the evening. There is more to come, more to come! I tried to spend some time at dinner, because, well, the City Zen is beautiful and Chef Eric (yes, the guy is real!) is amazing in his creations! Enjoy! (editted 'cause I'm an idiot)**

* * *

The moment he walked into the City Zen Restaurant, his stomach seized up. It wasn't until that moment it had completely sunk in that he was about to see Sherlock.

He told the hostess his name and the young lady smiled at him.

"Oh, Mr. Smith! It's very nice to meet you! Mr. Jones described you perfectly!"

"Mr. Jones?" John asked before thinking. He cleared his throat and quickly continued, "He's here already?"

"Yes, sir," she said as she led him toward the back of the room. There was a wall that separated the small dining area from the rest of the restaurant. On either side, there were curtains that hung from the ceiling to floor. The side closest to them as they approached was pulled back. He could see a small table towards a wall that was a wine rack and cooler.

It wasn't until John and the hostess had stepped through the curtains that he saw Sherlock.

Sherlock stood, looking through the other curtain out the window. He saw Sherlock watching him through the reflection in the window. John watched as Sherlock's shoulders stiffened and he stood taller before he inhaled deeply and turned to face John.

John thanked the hostess and walked further into the room. He saw the changes in Sherlock and felt the tears well up in his eyes. Sherlock's dark, curly hair was gone. In its place was a short-cropped blond spiky mess. There was a touch of curl, but nothing like he had come to know and adore. Sherlock was also much thinner, almost gaunt. This just made his cheekbones and eyes much more pronounced. What did cause the tears to start falling were Sherlock's eyes.

John saw so much pain and fear in them! John wondered at that fear. _Why would Sherlock be afraid?_

He knew immediately why. He knew Sherlock would never admit to being terrified that John didn't care as much as he'd said. He also knew that Sherlock was worried that John would be more angry than happy to see him. He paused at that. In all the time that he had known Sherlock was alive, he had never felt that anger. John wondered at that. But John also knew that that moment was not the time to concern himself with lost or forgotten emotions. The moment was for letting the man he loved know how much he was loved.

He stepped closer to Sherlock and slid his fingers along his jaw and into his short hair. Without hesitation, he pulled Sherlock in and kissed him soundly. The moment Sherlock relaxed into his kiss and wrapped his arms around John, John also relaxed. He kept in mind that despite the curtains, they were in a public place, so he kept the kiss as chaste as possible, but Sherlock's hands on his body were very distracting. John deepened the kiss to explore Sherlock's mouth and lost himself in the beauty and warmth that was Sherlock.

"Sher-" he breathed against the man's lips, "Sherlock, we're in public, love."

Sherlock lifted his head reluctantly and stared at John intently. John saw all the emotions that he knew Sherlock tried so desperately to hide every day.

"John," Sherlock started, "I-"

John interrupted him with another kiss before saying, "Later, love. For now, let's just enjoy dinner."

He pulled away from Sherlock, taking the taller man's hand in his and walked over to the small table in the corner of their little alcove.

"I've missed you," Sherlock said softly as they sat in two black straight back chairs with soft linen colored cushions.

"I've missed you as well," John said lightly, "I'm so glad I'm here."

Sherlock sighed heavily and started again, "John, I-"

"Sherlock, not tonight," John said tightly, "We have plenty of time to discuss the ugliness. Tonight, I just want to be happy that we're here…together."

Sherlock smiled slightly and nodded, knowing he was unable to say anything that would change John's mind for the evening. John leaned in and gave him a light peck on the cheek to ease the tension that had flared between them.

"Now," John said, "I'm glad we're both here, but I'm starving! Let's eat!"

Sherlock chuckled and rang the little bell that sat on the table. The server entered the area and smiled.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he said politely, "My name is Steven and I will be your personal server this evening. Chef Eric has prepared a wonderful meal this evening. Mr. Jones, shall I serve?"

John looked at Sherlock. _Sherlock had ordered dinner ahead of time?_

"Yes, please," Sherlock said with a small smile. Once the server had left to get their first course, Sherlock turned to him,

"I hope you don't mind that I ordered, John," he said, "the restaurant actually closes at 9:30 and I wanted to make sure our dinner would be ready and available when you arrived."

John looked at him, puzzled. _Forethought about food? Hmmm…_ He smiled slightly and lifted Sherlock's hand to his mouth.

"The less I have to think about anything but you tonight, the better," he said quietly, rubbing his lips over Sherlock's knuckles. He knew it was a silly, romantic gesture, but he couldn't help but want to touch Sherlock, remind himself that he was with him.

When the server came in with their first course, John went to let go of Sherlock's hand. Sherlock held his tightly, refusing to let go. Sherlock placed their connected hands on the white tablecloth. John looked at him briefly and frowned. He then turned to watch the server place their appetizers in front of them.

"Mr. Jones, for you, the crispy farm shoat belly. And Mr. Smith, for you the pickled sashimi of Japanese Hamachi," Steven said with a smile, "I'll give you a few minutes."

Very quietly, he left.

"Sherlock?"

"We're in Washington, DC, John," he replied to the question, "If I want to hold my lover's hand during dinner, no one will say anything. Here, gay men can be open and loving and most of the populous does not care."

"Still, Sherlock-"

"John," Sherlock said sternly, "there are certain things you don't want to talk about tonight. That is fine. But I would like tonight to be just about us being together without the worry of who might talk. We're in a foreign country. We can continue to be Hamish Jones and Marty Smith without anyone the wiser. If we want to openly be a couple here, it does not bother anyone."

John smiled and shook his head. He was definitely okay with that idea. He never thought he would be, but the idea of being an open couple, regardless of those at home who had always suspected, had frightened him. In America, who would it hurt?

He took up his fork and tried his sashimi. The flavors in his mouth were beyond delicious, something he'd never had before.

"Good?" Sherlock asked with a small grin.

John continued to chew and hum as he nodded, his eyes connecting with Sherlock's. The love in Sherlock's eyes stopped him. He swallowed the remainder of the piece of sashimi and leaned toward Sherlock, tugging him closer with their still-connected hands. The kiss was gentle, loving, and not so intense that John forgot himself. When Sherlock hummed into his mouth like he had hummed about the appetizer, he couldn't help but giggle. Sherlock joined him, knowing exactly why John was giggling, as he always did.

"I love you," John said on a sigh as he pulled back.

Sherlock's eyes filled with tears and John was taken aback.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock gave him a watery grin and replied, "I never thought I would hear you say that, John."

"But you've suspected, Sherlock? Probably even before I did," John said in confusion.

Sherlock smiled again, wiping his eyes with his free hand.

"Yes, John," he said as he picked up his appetizer fork, "but suspecting and knowing are two different things, John."

John watched as Sherlock took a bite of his appetizer. He wasn't really surprised that Sherlock had doubted. He himself had denied it so often. He chuckled at their stupidity and couldn't help saying it.

"We're idiots, Sherlock, you and I."

Sherlock just laughed. It was the laugh John had not heard for well over six months; the one he had told everyone about in his blog. It was the laugh that had turned his heart over and over until it didn't know which way was up. He joined in Sherlock's laughter as they finished their appetizers.

* * *

_Yes, only appetizers! We still have the main course, the cheese and dessert courses...wil they EVER get where we all want them to go? Let's ask Doc! He just nodded, but as he IS part Hobbit, he is a foodie, so he wants me to tell you about the deliciousness the boys are feasting on (sorry...you know I go where he goes!) Let me know what you think about their reunion...I wrote what Doc told me and I think it's sweet, personally! (blushes) RRR please!_

_Editted because I realized that I made the server Andrew...this is not the same person as in my JW story(obviously), so to avoid confusion on my own part, I changed his name...just saying..._


	6. Dinner and More

**Happy New Year! I swear, this piece is fully in my head, but apparently DocWatson's been playing with Sherlock (and those damn dwarves)so much that he's just plain forgotten about me! Well, hopefully after the New Year he'll straighten up and fly right! Actually, he's got so many stories going for me right now, it is often hard to keep them straight! Anyway, here's the remainder of dinner...and just WAIT 'til you see what's (or who's) for dessert!**

* * *

Almost as soon as they were finished with their appetizers, Steven returned with their main course.

"Mr. Jones, for you I have the City Zen Minute Steak, a pan roasted ribeye, medium rare, a la Grecque and baby rainbow beets," he said, placing the beautifully designed plate in front of Sherlock, "And Mr. Smith I have the filet of Atlantic black bass with roasted cauliflower, Meyer lemon and sweet garlic-crème fraiche for you."

He laid the fish meal in front of John and bowed slightly.

"Enjoy, gentlemen," he said politely and then turned and walked away.

John took a delicate bite of the bass and hummed his appreciation. Sherlock cut into his steak and placed the perfectly done meat into his mouth. John had to remind himself to continue chewing as he watched Sherlock enjoy the small bite he had taken.

"Delicious, as promised," Sherlock said after he swallowed.

They both tucked in and ate in companionable silence, enjoying every bite. John's hand found its way into Sherlock's as they ate. Between bites, he would often rub his thumb across Sherlock's knuckles. He could feel the electricity rising between them and was glad for it. Sherlock removed his hand at one point and reached over to John's plate and speared a bite of the remnants of the fish on his fork. John couldn't help smiling. Of course, Sherlock noticed. He smiled at John in return.

"Sorry," he said quietly, a slight blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks, "I should have asked."

John grabbed his chin and pulled him into a brief kiss.

"Don't be," he whispered against Sherlock's lips, his eyes still closed, "I wouldn't expect any less of you."

Sherlock leaned back and chuckled, "No," he said, "I suppose you wouldn't."

John then reached over and tried what little remained of Sherlock's steak. Even slightly cold, it was still delectable. He looked at Sherlock and smiled as he finished chewing the morsel.

"Both were delicious," he said after he swallowed, "I don't know that I've ever had better."

Sherlock shot him a wry smirk, but said nothing. John's hand dropped to Sherlock's knee and the smirk was instantly wiped away. John enjoyed the fact that Sherlock had to clear his throat a couple of times before he could speak again. When he did, he began to give John a history lesson on the city of Washington.

"Most people just think Washington, DC is just the capital city of the United States. They think it is a place of brick and mortar and politics with no heart…no soul….But they are so wrong, John!" Sherlock said emphatically, "There is such a depth of beauty in the way Charles L'Enfant originally designed the city. But the eclectic architecture of the buildings and the monuments and the parks that Andrew Ellicott went on to create has a significance I never would have known if I had not come here!"

John just sat with one hand on Sherlock's knee and the other fisted under his chin, listening to Sherlock speak. He had missed that voice so much in the past half of a year. And the excitement that was all Sherlock was infectious, to say the least.

"What I find most intriguing," Sherlock continued, "is how airy the city feels. From what I have read, there is an actual act, the Heights of Buildings Act of 1910 that states that no building shall be taller in height than the width of the street it fronts! London has always felt so dark, so confined, so oppressive. Washington is so light, so open, so…so HA! So democratic!"

John laughed at that. Sherlock was on a high like he had never seen. He knew for a fact that he had had nothing that would artificially create that high, but he loved this side of Sherlock.

"So you like it here?" John asked, moving his hand from Sherlock's knee to the man's thigh, his fingers squeezing slightly on his inner thigh.

Sherlock hesitated. John watched as his eyes dilated and his breathing got a little more inhibited. He swallowed before he responded.

"Oh, yes," he said a little more sedately, "And I want to show it all to you!"

"And perhaps you shall," John said with a grin, "but first, I think we should retire. I don't know about you, but I am suddenly really wishing we were completely alone."

Sherlock dropped his eyes and a flush slid up his long neck to his cheeks. John was slightly taken aback by that. When Sherlock didn't respond, John put two fingers under his chin and raised it up again.

"Sherlock?"

The blush rose to cover Sherlock's full face.

"I-I-" Sherlock stammered.

"Sherlock," John said gently, leaning in for a sweet, gentle kiss, "What is it?"

"John," he said quietly, "you remember my nickname from Moriarty, right?"

It hit John like a ton of bricks. Sherlock was a virgin after all! A part of him thrilled to know that he would be Sherlock's first. Another part of him was suddenly as afraid and shy as Sherlock. As far as men went, he was a virgin, too. He gave Sherlock a small smile.

"Well figure it out together, Sher," he said, grabbing his hand and squeezing lightly, "I just want you in my arms, for a start."

"I-it's not that I can't do-" Sherlock started.

"Sherlock," John whispered to interrupt, "We'll figure it out."

Sherlock leaned in and kissed him this time. The passion behind his kiss was evident, but John didn't let it go far. He saw a new server out of the corner of his eye and pulled back, turning his head. Sherlock lowered his head again and wouldn't look at the server.

"Excuse me, sir," the girl with short blonde hair said, "My name is Amanda. Steven asked that I take over for him. He's tied up at the moment."

Both Sherlock and John looked at each other before John responded. John knew Sherlock was working on deducing this girl. He himself could see she was 21, perhaps 23 at the oldest. She was slim, but athletic, probably a martial artist or a swimmer. But what he saw, more than anything else was that the sweet smile she gave him did not reach her eyes. There was anger, maybe even hatred for him…for Sherlock…within her eyes.

"Amanda," John said in his best Army Major voice, "we'll take the remainder of our dinner to go, please."

"Oh," she said, the surprise evident in her face, "Well, if you gentlemen would like, I can deliver your remaining two courses to your suite later."

John glanced to Sherlock and saw the imperceptible shake of his head. Whatever Sherlock had seen had made him more suspicious than normal and only confirmed John's suspicions.

"No thanks," John replied, looking back at Amanda, "We'll want…I wouldn't want to put you through any trouble."

"Oh, it's really no trouble at all, Mr. Smith," she replied sweetly, "It's all part of the City Zen experience."

"No, I insist," he said seriously. He looked back to Sherlock as he said with a wicked grin, "I wouldn't want you to walk in on what I plan to do to Mr. Jones here."

Sherlock's eyes flew back to John. His eyes were wide, his face a completely look of utter shock. He heard the girl gasp before she almost literally ran out of the room. He chuckled as the blush rose in Sherlock's cheeks as Sherlock watched the girl leave. John decided he liked making Sherlock blush.

John grabbed the napkins from Sherlock's lap and his and dropped them on the table with his free hand. He tugged on Sherlock's hand and said quietly, "Come on, love. Time for bed."

Sherlock looked back to him and the look of lust in his eyes almost made John forget himself. He stood up, pulling Sherlock with him.

"Let's go," he growled, "Now."

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_See, John's impatient, too! Can't WAIT to see what he's got in store for Sherlock! And that creepy Amanda chick? We'll see if she shows up again...Yes, I know where it all goes, but you don't now, do you? Anyway, read and review...those reviews DO equal love! And right now, extra love from me and mine might help Doc come away from those flippin' dwarves! Just sayin'..._


	7. First Night in America

**Yeah, yeah...it's been forever...I know...I'm sorry! DocWatson hasn't been so much on hiatus as he has been on sabbatical...RL has been a living insanity for me...new job, new hours...new co-workers...new...everything...and it all has happened so fast! But we're back for a bit, anyway...I will not make promises I know I can't keep, but I AM trying to make sure SOMETHING gets posted to this and my other stories AT LEAST once a week...if you don't hear from me, feel free to kick me in the butt with a nasty-gram...okay...maybe just a polite tweak on the cheek,,,either way...Doc and I have been struggling with this and the next chapter for a while, so be kind...hope you enjoy!**

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John and Sherlock barely made it across the lobby to the elevator before Sherlock had John pushed up against the wall. His mouth crushed into John's, pushing John's head roughly against the wall of the elevator car. John returned the kiss, his hands splayed across Sherlock's back. His senses were on fire. He felt the softness of Sherlock's lips and the smoothness of the gabardine fabric of the back of Sherlock's coat. He smelled the cologne that he hadn't realized Sherlock had worn for their evening together. He heard the small gasp from Sherlock as his hands pulled their lower bodies together. He tasted the heat and passion in Sherlock's mouth, echoed in his own. He opened his eyes and saw his beautiful Sherlock, flushed and glowing, his pupils blown wide but heavily lidded with all the emotion Sherlock never shared. John moved his hands from the back of the jacket Sherlock wore up into Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock's hands wandered John's body inside his suit jacket. His hands pulled the dress shirt from John's trousers and began unbuttoning the small pearlescent buttons on the shirt when the bell to elevator indicated their floor and they jumped apart.

Even being as turned on as he was, John had to giggle at their making out in an elevator like two horny teenagers. Sherlock seemed to understand the silliness and started to giggle as well. Luckily, there was nobody to notice their disheveled appearances. John grabbed Sherlock's hand and dragged him to one of the three doors on the floor. He slid the keycard into the slot and pushed the door open before he buried his hands back into Sherlock's curls and pulled him down into another hot, wet kiss.

John's tongue explored the edge of Sherlock's upper lip. He caught it lightly between his teeth and Sherlock whimpered. John released his lips and slid his hand to Sherlock's neck, pulling his mouth closer and angling his head for a deeper kiss. His tongue drove deep into Sherlock's mouth, showing him only a touch of what was to come. The groan that came from Sherlock only served to make John grow even harder than he ever thought possible. He could feel the tip of his cock pressing against the inside of his trousers, the banded edge of his pants suddenly feeling extremely tight as it pushed his erection into his stomach.

Still, he couldn't seem to get enough of Sherlock's kisses. John knew they were in danger of overheating and ending things all too soon, but he could not stop himself from ravaging the taller man's mouth. As soon as they cleared the entryway, Sherlock started pushing John's suit jacket off.

John tugged at the lapels of Sherlock's jacket as well. The jacket that he had consciously tried not to crush in the elevator was on the floor within seconds. John reached for the buttons on Sherlock's shirt and began pulling them through the holes, exposing his pale, alabaster skin. Once he had loosened all of the buttons, he brushed his fingers over Sherlock's chest and pushed the shirt open farther. He broke the kiss and watched his hands brush against Sherlock's chest. He rubbed a thumb over one nipple and Sherlock's knees almost gave out. John quickly wrapped an arm around Sherlock's waist, pulling him in tightly. The firmness and length of Sherlock's cock against his, even through their trousers had John very quickly retreating, lightly pushing Sherlock away.

Sherlock reached for him, but John sidled away, further into the suite, just out of Sherlock's reach.

"John?" Sherlock said in confusion.

John smiled reassuringly, but kept his distance from Sherlock for the moment.

"It's alright, love," he said quietly, "but we need to slow down."

"Slow down?" Sherlock asked incredulously, "I've waited nearly three years, John! Isn't that slow enough?"

John smiled broadly, happy to see Sherlock wanted him as much, if not more than he wanted Sherlock. Sherlock stepped closer to John and placed his hand on John's chest over his heart.

"Your heart rate is as elevated as mine," Sherlock said seriously, "Your erection is as obvious in your trousers as mine. Why should we take it slowly? We've only just reunited."

"A little more time is not a bad thing, Sherlock," John said, gently removing Sherlock's hand from his chest and bringing the fingers to his mouth, "I want to make our first night together magical. I want to make love to you, Sherlock, not fuck you like an animal."

Sherlock suddenly looked completely lost. He dropped his chin to his chest as a flush crept up his neck and cheeks once again. John wanted to celebrate the fact that he had once again confounded Sherlock for the second or possibly third time in one evening, but he tucked the knowledge away and remained serious. He understood Sherlock's confusion. What little experience Sherlock may have had with sex was most likely from pornographic films or watching the crack whore hookers on the streets of London. He had no understanding of what it meant to take time and enjoy a lover.

He stepped back into Sherlock's personal space and lifted his chin to look him in the eye. He couldn't resist touching his mouth to those gorgeous, intoxicating lips. He explored them tenderly, gently, until Sherlock tried to deepen the kiss. John pulled back, his fingers still caressing Sherlock's jaw.

"Do you know how much I love you?" John asked quietly.

Sherlock's eyes widened and then drifted shut. His mouth went slightly slack as he inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. When he opened his eyes, John saw the tell tale glassiness of unshed tears in Sherlock's stunning grey-green eyes.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to hear you say that, John? I don't know that I'll ever be used to hearing it."

Now it was John's turn to blink back tears. He leaned in again and crushed his lips into Sherlock's to hide his tears. Sherlock took advantage and pulled John tightly to him, one hand buried in John's short blond locks, the other wrapped around his back. John let him deepen the kiss, pouring all of his heart into it. He allowed the kiss to grow ardent again, but when he felt his passions straining at the edges of his control, he took command of the kiss by placing his hands on either side of Sherlock's face and slowly pulling away.

Sherlock continued to attempt to deepen the kiss, but John was able to sever the connection between their mouths and step back slightly. He understood the need. Hell, he was the need from head to toe at that moment. But his military-minded brain would not relinquish his hold on him.

"Sher-Sherlock," he said, breathing heavily, "Let's sit."

He grabbed Sherlock's hand and pulled him to the couch. As soon as they sat, Sherlock tried to kiss him again, but John put a hand firmly in the middle of Sherlock's chest and held him back. The heat of Sherlock's flushed skin almost made him lose his resolve to make the night last, but he took a deep breath and continued.

"No, Sher," he growled, "We need to talk about this, first."

"Why?" Sherlock said, nearly whinging.

"Because, Sherlock," John said roughly, "of the two of us, I have more experience in these matters than you do!"

"But John," Sherlock said, "I said I knew-"

"I am pretty sure I know what you think you know, Sherlock," John said, trying to keep a straight face. He was pretty sure that Sherlock's knowledge of sex was another one of those things he had probably deleted, like the knowledge of the solar system. He didn't think it would be appropriate to bring that up at the moment, "Look," John continued, "if you want me as much as I want you and if you love me half as much as I love you, please trust me on this."

"I do love you, John!"

Everything about John froze. He had known Sherlock loved him by the way he had acted, by the things he had written, but he had never said the words. His heart swelled and only gave him more resolve to take the night slow. He had known, sure, but now he knew. He took a deep breath.

"Thank you," he said as he exhaled. He watched the confusion grow on Sherlock's face again and he wanted to laugh. The bubble of laughter escaped in the version of a small giggle.

"Why are you giggling?" Sherlock asked, suddenly very upset.

"Sherlock, love," John said with a smile, the giggle continuing. He grabbed Sherlock's face again with both hands, "You have got be the most infuriating," he leaned and kissed Sherlock's left eye, "stubborn," right eye, "willful," left cheek, "beautiful," right cheek, "fantastic," nose, "adorable man, I've ever known," he finished by kissing Sherlock full on the lips, keeping his mouth firmly closed and not letting Sherlock deepen the kiss in any way. When he pulled back, John finished by saying, "and I love you, too."

Sherlock continued to look at him in confusion. John just kept quiet and grinned at him as he watched the cogs of Sherlock's mind start to function. He saw the moment when Sherlock realized what had brought all of that on. He saw the second when Sherlock processed it all and felt that slight embarrassment at having failed John at something.

"And don't you dare say you're sorry," John said in mock seriousness, his hands dropping from Sherlock's face, "because I wouldn't have it any other way."

Sherlock looked him straight in the eye, the seriousness of his apology there, but as they stared at each other, Sherlock began to see the humor and began to giggle himself. John smile widened and Sherlock returned the smile, his giggle turning into laughter. They sat and laughed for a few seconds, John enjoying the laugh he had told his readers about, Sherlock's real laugh that showed his enjoyment in the person he was with and the situation at hand. As the laughter slowed and died out, he saw Sherlock's focus change back to John's mouth. John obliged and leaned in for another kiss, his hands sliding back over his face and into his hair.

He pressed Sherlock back against the couch until he was lying over the top of him. Sherlock's hands wrapped around John again, holding him tightly. The brief interlude had not done much to calm either of their erections, John discovered, though he knew he was now more solidly resolved to take it slow with Sherlock. He rocked his lower half against Sherlock's and the friction was delicious. He wasn't sure which of them groaned louder at the contact. He deepened the kiss, brushing his tongue against Sherlock's lower lip. Sherlock automatically opened his mouth and sighed as John's tongue invaded.

Sherlock's hands continued to wander John's back and sides. As his hands slid farther down to John's backside, John thrust himself against Sherlock again as Sherlock wrapped fingers around John's ass. Sherlock moaned again at the contact and pulled John even closer. Sherlock spread his legs and John slid in between them. He rutted up against Sherlock's body, and John again saw the humor in the position and another giggle escaped as he continued kissing Sherlock.

It was Sherlock's turn to freeze. He stopped returning John's kisses. John pulled back to look at him with a bemused smile on his face. He knew what Sherlock's issue was, but still he couldn't ignore the humor he saw in their positions.

"I'd normally say I'm sorry for giggling, Sher," he said, "but I never expected to be in this position…at my age…with a man."

Sherlock continued to stare. John felt slightly chagrined at the fact that he honestly didn't understand why John thought the way he did.

"Sherlock, look," he said, leaning back on his haunches. He thought he heard a whimper from Sherlock as his body lost contact with John's. He slid his hands up Sherlock's legs and stopped with his thumbs just barely brushing the stiffened cock under the dress pants. Sherlock's groan at the contact made John completely forget what he was about to say. He moved his hands to unbuckle Sherlock's belt and unzip his trousers.

"You have far too many clothes on, Sherlock," he growled as he slid the zipper down, the back of his hand pressed into the material a little harder than before as he gauged how hard Sherlock's shaft had grown. He grabbed the trousers and pulled them down. The navy boxer briefs he wore barely contained his hardness against his hip, but barely. He still wore the purple silk shirt that he'd worn at dinner, but it was open, completely unbuttoned and framing his thin, alabaster torso. As John's eyes traced up his body to his face, his hands traced back up Sherlock's thighs, massaging the tense muscles there. He took in Sherlock's tousled hair, more unkempt than normal, thanks to John's hands. His lips, normally plump and pink were red and swollen, thanks to John's kisses. When his eyes met Sherlock's, John's heart skipped a beat, the lust, the love, the complete trust blew him away.

"Do you know how beautiful you are, Sherlock?" John said without thinking.

Sherlock laughed at that and it was John's turn to blush.

"It's just—I meant—Well, I—" he stammered before he finally shut his mouth and stopped talking.

"Thank you," Sherlock said through a chuckle.

John grinned at him, his hands still moving, still caressing Sherlock's member through the cotton of his briefs.

"John," Sherlock croaked, "I'm going to—oh, god!"

John gave Sherlock a crooked smile as he watched him come undone under his hands with just his gentle caress. He saw the moment Sherlock came back to Earth and leaned over to kiss him once again, gently and lovingly this time.

Suddenly, Sherlock turned back into the aggressor. With a strength John didn't know he had, Sherlock flipped John off the couch and onto the floor. John's back hit the soft carpet and Sherlock ended up more around him than on top of him. John wasn't sure how he had done it, but Sherlock's knees had ended up on either side of his hips and his arms were braced on either side of his head. His mouth covered the pulse point in John's neck and his deflating erection pressed into John's still hard cock. John couldn't help but groan at every sensation Sherlock was eliciting with every minute touch.

Sherlock's mouth moved down his body to his clavicle and then to the star-shaped scar on his shoulder. John's body tensed as Sherlock paid particular attention to the edges and crevasses that the bullet had created in its wake of destruction. His hands found Sherlock's curls as he placed open mouthed kisses to the old wound.

When Sherlock moved his attention to the nipple below the scar, John's cock tightened almost painfully. He laved at the hardening nub, licking and nipping at it. The awareness grew more intense as Sherlock's hand brushed over his body. His fingers brushed the other nipple and then gently flicked it. John couldn't contain the moan of absolute pleasure as Sherlock hummed his approval at John's reaction.

He continued his descent with hand and mouth, his lips trailing a wet path to John's navel. John had always been slightly ticklish, but Sherlock's touch was strong enough to warrant something other than a feeling of a tickle. His hand was joined by the other as Sherlock worked at getting John's trousers off. He felt his trousers loosen and Sherlock's hands deftly pull them over his hips and past his knees in one fell swoop. He looked down his body at Sherlock when Sherlock started to chuckle again. Sherlock looked up at him with a grin and John cocked his head at him in confusion.

"What?" he asked?

"Red?" Sherlock questions with a smirk.

"Oh," John said with a cheeky grin, "You mentioned once that you liked red."

"Oh," Sherlock said, his voice dropping to a growl, "indeed, I do."

He dropped his head and nuzzled his nose against John's shaft, still covered in the red boxer-briefs. John whimpered as Sherlock hummed, his nose vibrating against his already too-stiff cock.

"God, Sherlock!" he moaned aloud.

"Leave him out of this," Sherlock murmured against his thigh, barely loud enough for John to hear, "this is all you and me."

Sherlock's forefingers slid under the band of John's pants and tugged them down, exposing John's throbbing cock. John sucked in a deep breath as he looked down his body at Sherlock. Sherlock was contemplating his cock like it was a new and exciting puzzle for him to deduce. He was about to say something, tell Sherlock to stop when Sherlock boldly licked a wet stripe up the underside of his shaft. John couldn't contain the hiss of pleasure.

When Sherlock's lips enclosed his head, he heard himself whimper. When a hand joined his mouth, John let his head fall back to the floor, unable to watch as the sensations overwhelmed him.

Sherlock's mouth slowly descended his shaft, covering him completely. His fingers gently squeezed at the base, two fingers sliding along the crease between his balls. His tongue wrapped around the shaft and John knew he was not going to last long if he kept up the pace.

"Sherlock," he gasped out, "you need- we need to-"

Sherlock lifted his head from his cock and John almost cried out at the loss of the wet warmth.

"No, John," he growled, "I do not. I have wanted to do this to you for so long…It is the one thing I know I can do and do well…So shut up and enjoy it!"

John grinned as he closed his eyes again and let Sherlock take him back into his mouth.

Sherlock provided a little suction on his cock and John groaned again.

"Yes," he moaned, "keep doing that…but I'm not going to last long!"

Sherlock hummed around his cock in approval and slid his mouth up and down a couple more times. John felt the twinge he always felt when he was about to come. Before he could warn Sherlock, Sherlock took him deep down his throat. John instinctively thrust into the surrounding heat and came. Sherlock continued to lick and suck at him, swallowing all that John gave him. As he started to come down off his plateau, John felt the lethargy that always immediately followed his orgasms.

Sherlock pulled his mouth from John and daintily wiped his fingers at the corners of his mouth before he leaned in an d kissed John again.

"Well, my love," John said sleepily, "you buggered that one."

"What do you mean?" Sherlock said, disappointment growing in his eyes.

"Ah," John said, feeling his body shutting down, "you did that so well…But Sherlock, I haven't slept but maybe three hours since seven a.m. London time. I am about to fall asleep on you, my love."

Sherlock smiled tenderly as he bent down and hauled John to his feet.

"Then we best get you into bed, My John," he said, "before you fall asleep on this very uncomfortable floor."

John was nearly asleep on his feet, but smiled cheekily at Sherlock before he said, "But it was such a nice floor. Very accommodating in letting you suck me off."

Sherlock chuckled as he picked John up and carried him to their king-sized bed. He laid John down gently and pulled the sheet and coverlet over him. John's eyes drifted open.

"You're not coming to bed?" he asked sadly.

"I will be right there," Sherlock said, "I'm going to go get cleaned up first."

"Oh…"John started to say, but drifted back into sleep again before he could finish.

Sherlock watched his John sleep for a few moments before he went and jumped into the shower. When he got out, there was some investigating to be done. Sleep was for those who needed it.

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_You know the routine...we know you do...Read and Review...and honestly...if you want more, we need to know! Reviews are love to My John!_


	8. First Morning

**At last! The next chapter is complete! I must apologize to all my lovely readers! It has been an incredible real life rollercoaster this past month! I have been endeavoring to get a lot of things down with work (new job, new location, new commute) and writing (this story, my Arrow stories, beta-ing for two wonderful writers) and just life in general (classes, socializing, exercise, etc.). Yes, yes, they are all excuses, but safe to say, DocWatson has taken a quiet backseat to it all...I finally dragged his ass back to the front seat to drive again this week! So, enjoy...As always, reviews are greatly appreciated! _Update: Due to some changes in future chapters, this chapter has been slightly modified...If you didn't read it before, no worries...you won't know what you missed..._**

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As he woke, John recalled the wonderful sensation of Sherlock's mouth around his cock the night before. He was glad that Sherlock had insisted he move from the floor to the bed, but he hadn't remembered actually getting into the bed that currently surrounded him. He moved to stretch and was suddenly held still by a pair of long, thin hands. The sensation he had thought was remembered proved to be completely real as John realized Sherlock's mouth was on his cock again.

"Oh, yes," he moaned, "you can wake me this way any day, Sher."

Sherlock hummed happily around his cock and it sprang fully to life. He slid his mouth down, taking him deeply. John groaned at how amazing it felt. Sherlock's hands slid from his hips to under his ass, changing the angle of his cock in Sherlock's mouth, his knees now on Sherlock's shoulders.

"Hmmmm….yes, Sherlock, that's good," he murmured as he felt the tip of his cock hit the back of Sherlock's throat again and again as his mouth slid up and down his shaft.

His cock suddenly got a cold breeze as Sherlock lifted his mouth off John's cock and he almost whimpered. Sherlock took his shaft in one hand and slowly pumped his wet member while his mouth found his balls. He slowly, gently sucked in one and then the other and then both, his fist pumping John's cock all the while.

John moaned at the gorgeous feelings that Sherlock's ministrations were causing.

"You are so good at this," John said, the surprise evident in his voice. For someone who was a virgin, Sherlock obviously knew how to give head.

"Hmmmm," Sherlock hummed against the base of his cock, "Just wait."

Before John could say anything or do anything, Sherlock's tongue brushed his pucker. John's ass shot off the bed, inadvertently shoving Sherlock's tongue deeper.

"Gah!" John shouted, "What the bloody hell!"

Sherlock pulled away and John yelled again.

"Don't you dare stop!" he begged, "That felt bloody amazing!"

Sherlock chuckled. John felt the chuckle through his asshole. He could feel the grin on the wanker's face next to his ass cheeks. All thought of chastising him went out the window as Sherlock's tongue probed deeper.

John couldn't say anything. He had never had a woman do that to him, ever. He had never thought to ask, but he couldn't think well enough to wonder why he never had. Sherlock's tongue distracted him from all thought. He knew in the back of his mind that all the feelings Sherlock was invoking were going to bring him to orgasm way too soon, even in his haze. He lifted himself against Sherlock's mouth one last time and then pulled back, sliding his knees off the taller man's shoulders.

"Sherlock," he murmured, reaching out to entwine his fingers in Sherlock's curls, "love, no."

Sherlock looked up at him in perplexity. John almost forgot his reasoning when he looked into Sherlock's eyes. The glazed, lust-filled look behind his confusion almost made John come on the spot.

"No," John reiterated.

All lust dropped at that one word. John saw the sadness and fear overtake Sherlock. Immediately, he leaned down and grabbed him under the shoulders and hauled Sherlock up his body. His mouth met with Sherlock's temporarily reluctant one. When the recalcitrance left Sherlock's tense body through John's kisses and caresses, he pulled back from Sherlock's mouth.

"I love you, Sherlock," he whispered, "Let me show you how much."

Sherlock stared in his eyes for a moment and nodded before he replied, "Please, John."

John grinned at that and flipped them over so that Sherlock was suddenly on his back. He attacked his mouth with renewed fervor and Sherlock responded in kind. He endeavored to not notice that Sherlock was as naked as he was. He endeavored to focus on showing Sherlock with his mouth and hands how much he was wanted, how much he was loved. But both of their erections, now both hard and hot, pressing together between their bodies had John panting to get them both off.

He reached over to the nightstand. He had known they would consummate their love at some point, so he had come prepared. He grabbed the small bottle of lube from the drawer and leaned back from Sherlock long enough to squeeze a small amount into his other hand. He made sure the little bottle was firmly closed and then tossed it over his shoulder. His now-lubed hand grabbed his and Sherlock's cocks.

He couldn't be sure which of them groaned louder at the contact. Sherlock instinctively started thrusting in John's hand, creating a delicious friction between the two of them.

"I'm sorry, Sher-" John said tenderly as he leaned back in to kiss him, "This isn't going to be the tender love-making I want it to be."

He grunted as the sensation of their two pricks rubbing together brought him to the edge all too soon. He tried to stop, or at least slow down, but Sherlock was panting and coming undone in front of him as he shoved his dick into John's hand. He didn't dare to deny him at that moment. As he and Sherlock both came over Sherlock's chest, he knew he had had no choice in the matter.

He collapsed onto Sherlock and quickly rolled to the side, but Sherlock's arms wrapped around him and held him tightly.

"That was-" Sherlock started.

"That was horrible, Sherlock," John said with a chuckle, "I can do so much better!"

Sherlock chuckled as well, "We have plenty of time to try again."

"Oh yes, we do!" John said with a low growl in his throat that was echoed by a growl in his stomach, "But I'd say first, we have breakfast!"

"Not yet," Sherlock said huskily, "I want to just hold you for moment longer."

John looked up at Sherlock. The tone of his voice was one John had not heard before. The tears in Sherlock's eyes threw him for a loop.

"Sherlock?"

He turned his face away, but John grabbed his chin and turned him back.

"Sherlock?" he repeated.

Sherlock tried to avoid John's eyes despite the firm grip on his chin.

"It's nothing, John," he said seriously.

"Sherlock, what's wrong?" John asked insistently.

Sherlock was silent for a long moment and John thought he wasn't going to answer. Sherlock stared at him as if he was trying to memorize him. The overwhelming sadness in Sherlock's eyes made John want to wrap his arms back around him. Before he could take action, Sherlock spoke.

"This was a mistake," Sherlock said tightly.

All feelings of love, of tenderness, of worry disappeared and were instantly replaced by hurt. He dropped his hand from Sherlock's face and rolled away to hide the tears that had now come to his eyes.

"John, no!" Sherlock said quickly in a much louder voice, "Please, understand!"

"Understand?" John said in a low, dangerous voice. He knew even Sherlock knew what that voice meant. He tried to hold the hurt in check, but even he could hear it in his voice as he continued, "What's to understand? You don't really want me. That is obvious."

"No, John, that's not it at all!" Sherlock said pleadingly. John felt Sherlock gently touch his shoulder. He stiffened, but couldn't bring himself to shrug it off or move away. Sherlock said quietly, "John, I love you!"

He relaxed slightly, relieved that what he had felt and heard in the last twelve hours hadn't been a horribly ending dream.

"Then why was this a mistake?"

"I never should have brought you here," Sherlock said after a long pause. John stiffened again, the hurt growing again, "It's not that I don't want you here, John," he continued quickly, his words spilling so fast that John had to concentrate to understand, "I want you here, have wanted you here since this all began. But I love you too much. And after what just happened, I want more of it. I don't want just a one off with you, John. God! I could see myself spending days in bed with you! I should have never had Mycroft arrange this, because- well, because…"

Sherlock stopped, his hand tightened on John's shoulder. John turned back to Sherlock, confused by Sherlock's sudden silence. He watched as Sherlock took a deep breath and seemed to make himself physically relax.

"John," he said once again, "I love you."

John could see the anguish in Sherlock's eyes, but he was still hurt and wasn't giving Sherlock any quarter.

"I love you, too," he said quietly in concession. He did love Sherlock. That was why this was hurting so much. He watched as Sherlock took another breath, seemingly gathering his thoughts. He could almost see Sherlock physically pushing certain thoughts to the side in his Mind Palace though he never moved.

"It's because I love you so much, John that this was a mistake," he said finally, "I put you in danger when we were home. I did what I did…I faked my suicide to save you from Moriarty's man. I couldn't lose you when I could prevent it. My fake death prevented your real one…John, if anything would have happened…if anything were to happen to you…I just couldn't…"

John did not doubt the sincerity of Sherlock's words, but he could see that there was something Sherlock was holding back. Pushing his doubts back for later perusal, it finally dawned on him what Sherlock had said. John wanted to slap himself in the forehead for being so bloody slow in his thought process.

"You think bringing me here put me back in danger," he said blandly. It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Sherlock said on a sigh John could have sworn was relief as he dropped his gaze, "I can't do that to you. I can't do it to myself, John. You are my life. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you."

"Tough," John said roughly.

Sherlock's eyes shot back up to him. The fear he'd seen earlier was back briefly before the confusion masked it.

"You heard me," John said a little stronger, "Tough, Sherlock…I'm here now. I know you are alive. I love you. And I am not leaving."

"But-" Sherlock tried to argue.

"No!" John said stiffly, "Just- No, Sherlock. I will not leave you again…ever. You can't make me ever choose life without you. And you sure as hell won't change my mind."

Sherlock wisely remained silent and John leaned in to kiss him chastely.

"I love you, Sherlock," he said as he leaned back again, "but if you ever disappear on me again, it better be because you are truly dead or I will kill you myself."

"John-" Sherlock tried to say.

"No!" John interrupted again, almost shouting this time, "You wanted to talk about this last night. I know you did. I just wanted us to be together. But now we're going to talk about this. We're talking about this now…I'm talking. You are listening.

"You wanted me to be angry with you when you first saw me last night. I saw how tense you were. You were ready for me to punch you. You wanted me to hate you, hurt you for- for what you did…I did," John continued after a breath, "I did hate you.

"While I grieved for you, I hated you. I was so angry that you'd- I still can't bring myself to say the words," John admitted, "But you know what I hated most, Sherlock? I hated that I knew, deep down that somehow you were alive. My therapist said I was deluding myself. Greg and Mike both just allowed me to believe with sympathetic eyes. I always knew they thought I'd gone off the deep end. Even when I admitted on my blog that you had- what you did, I still held out hope. I wished, with every fiber of my being that you'd come back to me. Molly," John laughed wryly, "that poor, sweet girl, she kept trying to tell me. I see that now, but your- you- what you did sent me down such a spiral, I never wanted to hear her. And honestly, Sherlock, if I had known sooner, if I hadn't properly grieved, I probably would have punched you in the face the moment I saw you!

"But, love," he said as he reached out to Sherlock and gently touched his face, "Last night, I was so happy to just be here, to be here with you, that I wanted nothing more than to kiss you as I did. And the anger is gone. It doesn't belong here between us. I know why you did what you did. I understand why. I will even say, 'Thank you, Sherlock for proving that you are not a machine. Thank you for showing that you do care about some people more than you like to admit.' But with my being here, you are stuck with me. I am staying. I am staying here. Don't think you will ever find a reason for me to go."

Sherlock sat silently for a long moment before he turned his face into John's hand and kissed his palm. He turned his face back to John.

"I'm sorry, John," he said sincerely, "I am so very sorry that I put you through that. I am sorry you had to believe that I didn't care for you enough to stick around. I'm sorry I that you had to believe when I left you nothing to believe in. I'm sorry that I didn't include you in the plans," he paused to take a breath before he continued, "Most of all, I am so truly sorry I didn't tell you how I felt sooner."

John leaned in and kissed him again. This time, the kiss was in no way chaste. John leaned in and took Sherlock's mouth fiercely, wrapping his hand behind Sherlock's head and holding him tightly to his mouth. He licked and nibbled at Sherlock's lips, murmuring loving words all the while. When John pressed his tongue against Sherlock's pliant lips, he opened his mouth willingly. John plunged his tongue in and out mimicking what he really wanted to do to Sherlock. He leaned farther forward, pushing Sherlock back against the bed.

Suddenly, John's stomach grumbled loudly. Surprisingly, Sherlock's answered just a little louder. John started giggling and Sherlock quickly started laughing. Their giggling apparently irritated both of their stomachs because the rumbling sounds manifested simultaneously once again. John rolled away from Sherlock, the laughter overtaking him and ruining the moment of passion.

John turned his still smiling face back to Sherlock. Sherlock was still grinning, but there was such a look of love in his eyes that John would have rolled back to him if Sherlock's stomach hadn't growled so loudly that both of them looked at his belly to see what might be crawling out of it. John sat up and laughed again as he crawled out of bed.

"Obviously we're to get no peace…or piece," he said with a sly grin as he went to the closet and grabbed the two terry-cloth robes he'd seen there the night before, "until we feed the wee angry beastie in your belly, Sher. Let's make breakfast."

Sherlock just shook his head at John with a small smile as he accepted the robe.

"We could just order room service," Sherlock said wryly.

"It'll take too long. I want to feed you," John said, his voice dropping to a low and dangerous level as he pulled the robe on, "so I can feed you something else later."

He watched the touch of fear cross Sherlock's face before lust fully overtook Sherlock's thoughts. He hesitated a moment before he smiled. He wanted to lean back over and kiss him, but he knew that it would only end the same as before. He also realized that his stomach really had told him the truth. He was absolutely starving and for what he had planned for the rest of their day, he would need fortification. He took one long lust-filled look at Sherlock and then forced himself to turn away and head off into the kitchen.

"John," Sherlock said just as he was about to quit the room completely. He turned to look back at Sherlock. Sherlock smiled as he rose from the bed, "I love you. Don't ever leave me."

John smiled and replied, "Ditto."

Then he walked out to make breakfast. The sooner they were done with food, the sooner fun things could really begin!

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_Ah breakfast! I always knew John was a Hobbit in another life! ;-P Read and Review, Perlease! The plan is to start updating this once a week...I'm TRYING to make a commitment to you all now! Hugs for sticking with me! 'Til next time!_


	9. Christmas Breakfast

**_For those who have been following, favoriting and reviewing, THANKS! Thank you also for being patient while my angsty Doc figures out what's going on...I think we've figured it out, so here's the next chapter...not many changes...subtle, I think for those of you have read it previously, but let me know what you think, eh?_**

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As John searched through the fully stocked refrigerator in the small but efficient kitchenette that en suite provided, he chuckled. Obviously, Mycroft had spared no expense to try to make up for his stupidity. All the staples were there; milk, eggs, butter, bread, bangers, a couple of pounds of bacon and what looked to be half of a spiral ham. He checked the vegetable drawer and found onions, tomatoes and two different versions of peppers. He had the idea to create western omelets and pulled the ingredients from the fridge. He was pleased to find an omelet pan in the cupboard next to the two-burner stove.

He had just finished chopping vegetables and a portion of the ham when Sherlock stepped out of the bedroom. His hair was damp from the shower and he wore the robe John had tossed to him, but it had not been tied. He paused from his prep to take a good long look at Sherlock. The four months they had been apart had not helped his physical form. In the restaurant, he had noticed the gaunt face and blond curls, but he had been too distracted by passion to truly notice how truly emaciated Sherlock's body had become. His ribs stood out against the pale skin. His hips jutted forward prominently and his legs, once so muscular, looked like to sticks.

"What the bloody hell have you done to yourself?!" John asked without thinking.

Sherlock looked up at him in shock and quickly wrapped the robe around himself. Even that action showed how thin he had become.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked weakly.

"I mean you look like you haven't eaten in months," John said as he set down the knife he'd been using and stepped around the end of the kitchenette's peninsula.

When Sherlock glanced back at him quickly and blushed, John realised that was exactly what had happened.

"Oh, Sher," he said sadly as he stepped closer, wrapping his arms around the taller man, "Why? Before we were together, you at least kept yourself fed."

"I was-"Sherlock said, his eyes sliding away from John.

"Busy," John said with a small smile. He kissed Sherlock gently, almost chastely before he stepped away, "Let me get to that food before you waste away completely."

"John," Sherlock said, stopping his forward motion.

John turned back from the counter and saw Sherlock reaching for him.

"John," he said again and then hesitated, his hands dropping to his sides.

John smiled brightly and said, "I love you, too, Sherlock."

Sherlock's smile peaked out and John turned back to the food preparation. Sherlock stepped up to the opposite side of the counter and sat on the tall barstool there. He watched silently as John threw the omelets together with the ease of a line cook in a fast food diner. He put the bangers in a pan to fry. While things cooked, he grabbed plates and flatware from the drawers and placed them on the counter in front of Sherlock. Sherlock set their places while he flipped the omelets onto the plates.

He walked around the counter and sat on the other barstool at the counter, giving Sherlock's cheek a peck.

"Eat up, Sher," he said lovingly, "Don't want it to get cold."

They ate in relative silence, the click of forks against plates and Sherlock's murmurs of appreciation the only sounds. John was proud of the quick yet delicious concoction, especially when Sherlock wolfed down his entire plate and eyed his until he had passed it over to him. Without asking, John went back into the kitchen and fried up a couple more eggs for each of them and fired up a good half pound of bacon as well. The doctor in him knew it was a lot of fat, but Sherlock needed the protein and fat more than anything else. He ate his eggs over the sink after he had dropped the extra two eggs and over half the bacon on Sherlock's plate.

He began cleaning up the small mess he had created as Sherlock finished up.

"Thank you," Sherlock said quietly from immediately behind him.

He turned around and was engulfed in Sherlock's arms immediately. He had no chance to say 'you're welcome' as Sherlock's mouth descended on his. He tasted of bacon and eggs and fried onions. John nibbled at Sherlock's lip and Sherlock's mouth automatically opened to his. Their tongues battled as hands started to explore. John's hands slid under the robe, pressing the loosely tied garment open. Sherlock shrugged and the robe dropped to the corners of his elbows.

Sherlock dropped his arms long enough for the robe to slide to the floor and John's hands continued to explore. He felt the bones of Sherlock's hips and had to remind himself that he had already fed Sherlock food and any more would make the man sick. He pulled him closer, moaning as he felt Sherlock's hardness pressed against his. He realised in that moment that his robe had been opened by Sherlock's deft hands and he stood nearly as naked as Sherlock was. Before he could do anything or say anything, Sherlock dropped to his knees in front of him and took his cock in his mouth.

Instantly, he had trouble remembering what he was going to say. Sherlock's tongue swirled circles around his head and his hand wrapped around the base of his cock. His head pistoned over John and John lifted his hands to the curls at his hips. He was beyond hard for Sherlock and as much as he loved the idea of coming in Sherlock's mouth for the second time in as many days, John valiantly tried to remind himself that Sherlock had still not gotten his romantic love making. When Sherlock's finger slid into his arse, all thoughts of slow love making ended. As his head slowly slicked up and down his shaft, Sherlock's finger penetrated John in a countermotion.

John couldn't think. He could only feel. But he knew one thing. He wanted more than anything to be inside Sherlock. He grabbed the man's head by the curls and pulled him off with great difficulty.

"Get in the bedroom, now," John growled as he bent to kiss Sherlock's red lips, "I am going to bugger you until you beg me to stop!"

Sherlock instantly stood and nearly ran to the bedroom without even the slightest argument. John was surprised by that, but followed Sherlock more sedately. When he walked into the room, Sherlock was standing at the end of the bed, looking almost lost. If John had not observed the erection jutting from his hips, he would have thought Sherlock was wary or frightened of what was to come.

"Get the lube from the bed," John ordered.

For some reason, he fell into his military voice, wanting to take charge of Sherlock. Sherlock immediately searched the bed for the small bottle John had tossed into the covers earlier that morning. He quickly found it and handed it to John without a word.

"Bend over," he said brusquely. Sherlock immediately leaned over the bed, hand squarely on the mattress. John just looked at him for a moment. The beauty that was this man's figure overwhelmed him. He reached out and caressed the rounded cheeks of Sherlock's ass. Sherlock almost purred at the contact and John felt his cock jump.

He flipped the lid of the bottle in his hands and slicked his fingers. He rubbed the lubrication between his thumb and fingers, warming it slightly before he slid one very gently into Sherlock's pucker. The purr became a small growl.

"Hush," John said. He watched as Sherlock dropped his head to the bed and muffled his sounds in the bedding. He added another finger and heard the growl repeated in Sherlock's throat. He took a chance on Sherlock's subservient attitude and smacked his free hand hard down on Sherlock's cheek, "I said hush!"

Sherlock turned to look at him and the anger John had expected was not there. Instead he saw lust, need.

"So you like that, do you?" he asked, "You like me dominating you? Punishing you?"

Sherlock only nodded his head. John had never felt so turned on in his life. He thrust his fingers a little deeper, a little harder, trying to elicit another sound from Sherlock, but he had turned his head back to the bed. He thrust his fingers again, scissoring them to widen Sherlock for what was to come. It was too late for him to go the romantic route now, he knew. But they both needed release and he wanted to be inside Sherlock when that happened next. The need was throbbing around his whole body.

"On the bed," he ordered gruffly, the lust getting the better of him, "On your back. I want to see your face when I enter you."

Sherlock immediately climbed onto the bed and laid back. John climbed up next to him and took his time looking over his beautiful Sherlock. He positioned himself between Sherlock's raised knees and just looked his fill. As much as he wanted, needed to fuck him, he knew he could not be rough with Sherlock their first time. He traced his fingers down Sherlock's body with one hand and grasped his hard member with the other.

He guided his cock to Sherlock's hole and gently pressed in. Sherlock gasped at the tight penetration and John paused.

"Sher?" he asked, his eyes concerned.

"Please, John," he begged as he shifted, giving John more access.

John pressed into him again, moving deeper. Sherlock whimpered. He leaned over, pushing even deeper. He pulled back and thrust back into him. Sherlock groaned and John could feel it all the way into his balls.

"Yes, my love," he whispered to him, "It's good, yes?"

Sherlock's eyes had glazed over and he moaned. John paused his gentle thrusting.

"Are you okay, Sherlock?" he asked. Sherlock kept thrusting against John, trying to pull John deeper, and never making eye contact. John held Sherlock's hips down and asked again, "Sherlock. Are you okay?"

Sherlock wouldn't look at him. John realised that his eyes were tightly shut, his face turned away. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't tell what he had done to make Sherlock so incredibly tense.

"Sherlock?" he repeated, "Are you okay?"

When Sherlock didn't respond, John moved to pull out of him. Sherlock's arms and legs immediately wrapped around John, pinning him into position.

"Please, John," he whimpered, "Please don't stop."

John could feel Sherlock trembling. He put his hands on either side of Sherlock and tried to push his upper body away to look at him, but the younger man held him in place.

"Sher- What's wrong?" he asked nervously.

Sherlock just growled.

"Please, John!" he begged, "Please, just fuck me! I'll tell you later, just fuck me now!"

He thrust his hips instinctively and Sherlock's grip on him loosened slightly as he groaned. He was able to use his arms to lift his body so that he could grind into Sherlock's pelvis. Sherlock whimpered again and John froze.

"Don't," Sherlock said, finally turning his head to face John and opening his eyes. John gasped at the raw need he saw there. But he also saw the terror. Before he could say anything, the terror was hidden and nothing but lust was left.

"Later," John murmured, "You promise you'll tell me what just happened?"

"Yes," Sherlock whimpered as John wrapped his hand around Sherlock's cock and stroked him, "Please, John."

Sherlock thrust up into his hand and back down onto his cock, effectively fucking himself both ways. It only took a few thrusts before Sherlock stiffened below him and came over John's hand, calling his name. John thrust two more times and came himself with a loud groan. He dropped his body onto Sherlock's, unwilling to remove himself from Sherlock.

Sherlock's arms wrapped around him and he kissed the top of John's head. After a few moments, John tried to move and Sherlock held him tightly again.

"Please," he asked quietly, "Not yet."

John kissed Sherlock's neck.

"Let me go, Sher-" he said gently, "I'm getting a little uncomfortable."

Sherlock reluctantly let him go and John pulled out and away from him. He quickly leaned back in and kissed him with a smile on his lips.

"John," Sherlock said as John rolled away and off the bed. John stopped and looked at him and grinned at him halfheartedly. Whatever had caused the fear and anguish had been put away. There was nothing but love and admiration in Sherlock's countenance. John knew that the discussion would have to happen, but Sherlock wasn't going to give it up willingly.

"I love you, too, Sherlock," he said with a gentle smile as he padded into the bathroom.

"I was going to bloody well say Happy Christmas!" Sherlock shouted. John's smile turned into a laugh as he turned the shower on.

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_Doc and I need love...please give love if this was at least somewhat enjoyable, eh? He's feeling a little insecure lately..._


	10. A Shower

John stepped into the scalding shower and felt his skin tingle and then melt. He knew he should feel like absolute jelly after three sessions of sex with Sherlock in less than twenty four hours, but he felt alive, rejuvenated. He chuckled and shook his head as he grabbed the full sized bottle of shampoo the hotel had provided from the shelf and scrubbed it into his hair. He raked his fingers deep into his hair to his scalp, reviving the skin and his mental state. He was concerned about the fear and pain that had taken over so briefly. It wasn't like Sherlock to be scared, but he had been. But he'd begged John to continue. And when they had finished, John having one of the most amazing orgasms he'd ever hoped to have, all of Sherlock's fear had been buried.

He was surprised to feel himself growing hard again at the memories of Sherlock's mouth on him, of being buried deep inside him, of hearing Sherlock call his name as he came. The joy, the passion, the love that had been in Sherlock's cry had wrapped itself so completely around John that he had come harder than he ever had with any woman he had been with in his life despite the concern or perhaps because of it.

He groaned in frustration as he reached for the body wash the hotel had also provided before opening his eyes. His hand wrapped around it, but there was another hand already there. He smirked. He had hoped Sherlock would find his way to him.

"May I join you?" Sherlock growled lowly.

John felt the thrill go through him at that voice and opened his eyes lazily. He tugged on the hand that still held the bottle of body wash.

"I would be hurt if you didn't," he smiled as he pulled Sherlock into the water and kissed him.

Sherlock stepped closer and brushed his free hand into John's wet hair and deepened the kiss. Their mouths opened to each other and their tongues danced against each other hotly. John felt the cool of the marble tiles of the shower against his back as Sherlock pressed against him.

"We're going to kill each other," John growled as he slid his mouth from Sherlock's and attacked the pulse point just below his ear. Sherlock moaned and pressed closer to John as John continued breathlessly, "God, Sherlock! I have never wanted anyone so much!"

Sherlock moaned again and John realised they both were as hard as they had been just minutes ago. He knew he should say something, but Sherlock wrapped his hand around their cocks. They both moaned as Sherlock thrust against him. John felt the unmistakable thrill of his oncoming orgasm coursing through his body. He moaned Sherlock's name against the man's throat. Sherlock murmured his name over and over as his thrusts became faster and more erratic. John looked up at Sherlock as he felt his orgasm take over him and realised wanting was the least of the emotions that bound him to this man. He pulled Sherlock tightly against him as the overwhelming happiness brought on tears he didn't know he could cry. He thanked all that was holy that they were in the shower so that Sherlock would not see his tears. But he should have known that his lover would know.

"John?" he asked quietly as he dropped his hand from their cocks and placed it on John's hip. John still had his hand tightly wrapped around the body wash with Sherlock's hand trapped between his flesh and the bottle. "John," Sherlock whispered again, "Love, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," John demurred as he buried his nose deeper into Sherlock's neck. He didn't know how to describe his feelings to a man he knew was just learning what his were about.

"John," Sherlock said, stepping back, tugging his hand with the bottle free. John watched quietly as Sherlock put the bottle back in its place before Sherlock looked back at him, his hand gently enfolding John's face and ear, "You know better than to try to lie to me."

"I'm just happy, Sher," he replied quickly, "I- We always- but I- I'm just glad we're here…together."

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and chuckled. John could feel Sherlock's still hard length between them. He sighed and let the tears flow quietly for a few moments.

"I know I've said it a lot these last two days, Sherlock," he said very quietly, but he knew Sherlock could hear him, "but I love you so much. I didn't know until you were gone. But now I'm back with you and I can't ever let you go."

Sherlock hesitated in his response before he said quietly, "I-I know, John."

They stood wrapped around each other, the hot water sluicing down their bodies for a long time, just holding each other and breathing until John began to shiver. Sherlock leaned back and turned off the water behind them and then reached outside the shower to grab their robes. John noticed that Sherlock still had an erection. He felt himself grow interested in that and cleared his throat uncomfortably as he shoved his arms into the robe.

They stepped out of the shower and headed into the living room through the short hall. John stopped suddenly and turned around. Sherlock nearly crashed into him, but he grabbed Sherlock's elbows and pulled him in for a forceful kiss. Sherlock obliged by letting him take charge. He licked across Sherlock's bottom lip and nipped at it as he shoved Sherlock against the wall. Sherlock gasped and he took advantage, plunging his tongue forcefully into Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock moaned as John pressed up against him. He slid his hands between their bodies and moaned as he wrapped his fingers around Sherlock's hard length. He slid his mouth from Sherlock's to his collarbone, continuing down to his nipple and dropping to his knees to lave at his naval. He dropped further and wrapped his lips around Sherlock's cock.

He expected a moan or his name from Sherlock. Instead, he felt Sherlock's entire body stiffen and his hands roughly pulled his head away.

"No, John," Sherlock said roughly. John looked up his body and the fear from earlier had returned. Sherlock was shivering, "Please," he begged.

John immediately stood and wrapped his arms around Sherlock and the man relaxed, but the shivering didn't stop. John recognized the symptoms of trauma immediately and gently led him to the couch. John sat and leaned back against the arm rest and pulled Sherlock into his arms. Sherlock uncharacteristically wrapped himself into John's embrace, holding him tightly. His shivering continued and John gently rubbed his back, murmuring words of love to him for a long time. He wanted to slap himself in the forehead again. He should have seen the trouble earlier, but he had been so horny that he had ignored the symptoms. He had taken Sherlock's request to talk about it later at face value. Whether Sherlock would ever admit it or not, John realised that Sherlock had been sexually abused at some point in his life.

Finally, Sherlock's body relaxed completely against him and John felt the calmness of sleep overtake Sherlock's body. He held him lovingly and let Sherlock sleep for quite a while, his mind racing, trying to figure out what had happened to Sherlock to cause such a reaction.

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_Dunh dunh dunhhhh...yeah...crappy place to stop, sorry...been a long few days...and this next scene is pretty damn emotionally intense...and has been harder to write than I thought it would be...So...hope you enjoyed...reviews are always welcome...'nough said..._


	11. A Terrible Confession

**I am warning here...this chapter is filled with a LOT of non-con/rape. If it is a trigger, don't read or don't blame me for a bad experience...just sayin'...You HAVE been warned!**

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"I'm sorry I lied to you, John," Sherlock said suddenly. John started at his voice. He had not realised that he had been asleep, but obviously he had. The lack of sunlight coming through the French doors overlooking the Potomac River indicated as much. They had obviously slept a lot longer than he had thought. Most of their Christmas Day was gone.

"What?" he asked groggily.

"I was raped in uni," Sherlock said so quietly John had to struggle to hear, the strain evident in his voice.

"Raped," John stated rather than asked. It had been more than apparent by Sherlock's reaction earlier that something sexually traumatic had happened.

"Yes," Sherlock said tightly, "So, I lied to you when I said I hadn't been with anyone before. I didn't remember, but it was still a lie."

John hugged Sherlock tightly against him.

"It's okay, Sher," he said softly, "You don't need to explain any-"

"No," he said gruffly, "I need to tell you. I-I l-locked it all aw-way in the d-dungeon of my Mind Palace, but-"

"But I triggered the memories with my clumsy attempt-"

"John, no," Sherlock interrupted roughly, "It isn't your fault. Please don't-"

"Sherlock," John interrupted him, leaning forward to kiss the taller man on the back of the neck, "I don't blame myself. And don't blame yourself. Blame the perverts who hurt you."

"I do," Sherlock said with a sardonic chuckle, "I realise now it's why I was so awful to Wilkes."

"From the Blind Banker case?"

"Yes," Sherlock said softly.

John stiffened. He tried not to, but his natural instinct was to be angry.

"Don't hate him," Sherlock said meekly, leaning up to turn around to look at John.

John took the opportunity to slip from the confines of the sofa and away from Sherlock. He stood in front of him, pacing from the front of the sofa to the glass doors. He could see the hurt and worry on Sherlock's face, but the anger would not allow him to go to him.

"How can I not?" John asked angrily, "He hurt you, Sherlock!"

"He protected me," Sherlock said quietly.

"He protected you?! By fucking you!? What the hell, Sher!?"

Sherlock looked at him hopelessly. John's anger took him steps and steps further away. He had never unintentionally hit Sherlock, but he knew if he didn't calm down, he would…He stood at the window watching out over the peaceful river. He noted that there were ice floes with rushing water flowing over them in the middle for no other reason than to focus on something other than his anger.

"John," Sherlock whispered. He had wisely chosen to remain on the small couch, "Can I tell you the story that is now back in my mind? Maybe it will explain things."

John nodded, not looking at Sherlock. He wasn't angry at Sherlock and a part of him knew that he needed to let him know that, but the red that coated his eyes told him that he couldn't make that concession at that moment. Sherlock began his story and he listened.

"I was different when I first started university," Sherlock said softly, "I had learned from Mycroft how to blend in with the crowd, not make waves, not be…whatever it is that makes people not like me now."

John glanced back at him and smirked a bit, but remained silent.

"Sebastian was my roommate my first year in uni. I was two years younger than anyone else, so he took me under his wing. We became friends very quickly and I felt safe with him. He would take me places; introduce me to people, kept me social even though I was unbearably shy."

John shot him a look. _Shy?_

"Yes, John," Sherlock said with a small smile, "I was shy. But Sebastian taught me to hide that reticence and allow myself to shine. At the time, I appreciated him for it. We had most of our general education courses together. I, of course, had no problems with them and was usually quite bored. I helped Sebastian get through his first year with flying colors because I fancied myself in love with him. I was pretty sure he knew, but he hid his knowledge pretty well."

John heard Sherlock move from the couch and begin to pace.

"I mooned after him like a puppy dog for our entire first year and most of the second year," Sherlock continued, his tread moving him from sofa to breakfast bar to bedroom door, never close to John as if he knew John was on edge, "I know now that my infatuation for him was simply the fact that he was the first man other than Mycroft I had ever seen naked. But when he declared he liked me for more than just a friend, I was head over heels. We kissed often when we were alone. He taught me how to give a proper blow job. He never actually touched me as I recall now. But he was caring and gentle with me and treated me like a proper boyfriend as long as we were in the privacy of our room. I never thought about the fact that he was keeping me hidden, but I see now he was. Even so, I offered myself to him, begged him to take my virginity."

Sherlock paused. John could see his reflection in the window as Sherlock gathered his thoughts.

"We had chosen to stay on campus during winter break and I thought that it would be the perfect opportunity to consummate our love. Mycroft was in Europe with his lover du jour and Sebastian had no close family of which to speak. So on the first night, he invited five of his fraternity pledge brothers over," he said with a small smile in his voice, "They worked on getting me very inebriated. It didn't take much. I realise now that there was something in those drinks, because I had no inhibitions when Sebastian kissed me in front of all of them. Apparently, Sebastian had told them that I gave good head. In trying to impress the man I thought was my boyfriend, I sucked off all six of them like a professional.

"By the time I had finished the sixth blow job, Sebastian wanted more. He took me first. He actually worked me open properly before he entered me, which I have to thank him for, I guess. But as soon as he was done with me, the next one slammed himself into me. Each of them took their turn. By the third one, the drugs in the alcohol had started to wear off. I realised what was going on and started to struggle. That's when they started getting rough.

"Once they realised I was no longer docile, they all did what they could to hurt me while they fucked me. They were rough when they entered me. They would slap me or punch me if I protested. Sebastian would try to be gentle when it was his turn, but they continually egged him on to be rougher and rougher. I was so out of my mind with pain and the sadness of Seb's betrayal that by the fourth go around that night, I was convinced I was dreaming.

"By the second day, I was exhausted. By the third, I started to go away into my mind and started building the palace. It was only a seven room house at that point with one room for each of them and me. But with each time one entered me, their room got a little bit bigger. Over the years, I have buried those six rooms so far deep that I really did forget they were there…"Sherlock paused. John turned to face him. Sherlock started pacing again, his head down as he spoke.

"By the fourth day, they had somehow convinced me that I wanted their abuse," he continued after a deep breath, "They made me remember their names: Anthony, Carl, David, Joseph and Michael. They made me beg them to fuck me. They made me beg them to let me suck their dicks. They tag teamed me most of the time, one taking his pleasure while the others stroked themselves or recovered from having just finished with me. I only got a break when I passed out. Even then, it wasn't much of a break. Then, late on the fourth day, Sebastian sent them all out to get food, saying he wanted some time alone with me.

"_'Rest, Sherl,'_ he said, _'Sleep. I'm not going to do anything but hold you for a few hours. I'm so very sorry this happened.'_ I wanted to believe him. He wrapped his arms around me and murmured quiet terms of endearment in my ear until I fell into a deep sleep. One of the last things he said was,_ 'You need to go away in your head, Sherl. Just remember it is only physical. If they can't get into your head, you'll survive this, I swear._' I have no idea how long I slept, but I woke, tied to the bed. Joseph sat in the corner, getting a blow job from the ginger, Carl while Michael was in my arse, Anthony was in my mouth and David was sucking my cock. There was no sign of Sebastian anywhere.

"They didn't leave me alone after that. There was always one of them fucking me while the others watched or slept. More often than not, I had one in my arse and another in my mouth. They would make me suck them after they'd fucked me to get them hard again.

"I never saw Sebastian again until the sixth day when he finally brought my brother and his version of the authorities into our room. I was so far gone into my head by that point that I saw Mycroft as just another attacker. I didn't recognise him. His men pulled the five off me, leaving me naked and raw in more ways than one. When my brother reached out to touch me, I screamed. I screamed like I hadn't since the whole ordeal had started. He forcibly grabbed me, wrapped me in the soiled blanket I was on and tried to bring me back to reality. All I did was scream."

Sherlock stopped and looked at John.

"I am so sorry, John," Sherlock said sadly, "I never meant to lie to you…C-can you…can you ever forgive me?"

John took a long, deep breath and made sure to look Sherlock in the eye.

"There is nothing to forgive, Sherlock," he said tightly, his arms crossed over his chest, "You lied about your death and that is already forgiven and forgotten…There is nothing else you need to ask forgiveness for."

John's eyes teared up as he realised how much pain he had unintentionally caused Sherlock in the past forty-eight hours, "The question is, can you forgive me?"

Sherlock blinked at him.

"Whatever for?" Sherlock asked incredulously.

"My god, Sherlock!" John said, the tears slipping over onto his cheeks, "For treating you like absolute shit on our first night…For being insatiably in need of you since the moment I saw you yesterday…For not being gentle with you…For bringing these memories back…you choose!"

"I don't need to choose, John," Sherlock said quietly, "I need you…and your love…however you want to give it to me. You're my choice."

"Sherlock!" John shouted as Sherlock stepped up to him. He started to reach out for John but stopped when John took a step back and continued, "How can you want me to touch you? It's no wonder you consider yourself asexual! I think I would be too if I was raped for six days…SIX DAYS! And by your roommate and his mates! Sherlock, I am so sorry-"

"Don't be," Sherlock said with deadly calm as he turned away, "John, don't be sorry. Don't pity me. Don't change who you are because you know my story."

"How can I not?" John asked quietly.

"Just love me," Sherlock said softly as he walked to the bedroom door.

"I do, Sherlock," John replied too quietly for him to hear, "Oh, God! How can I not?"

He turned to face the bank of windows as he let his tears fall for the first and last time for the man his beautiful Sherlock had been and would never be again. He grieved for the boy he could have been and for the man he had become. For a long time, he stood looking out the window letting his tears fall uncontrollably. Finally, he wiped his eyes, took a deep breath and turned to head into the bedroom to do damage control.

* * *

_Woo. Hope that wasn't as difficult to read as it was to write...Rape is a serious matter...don't let anyone EVER tell you different...ok, stepping off my soap box...PLEASE, tell me what you think of this chapter...Doc and I have been trying to make it more palatable for a long while now (I AM sorry it has taken this long!)...Reviews are love...just sayin'..._


	12. Damage Control

He found Sherlock curled into a ball on the chaise lounge that sat in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the Tidal Basin and Jefferson Memorial. John had the thought that he had never seen Sherlock look so small. He hesitated as he stepped in the room and heard a sob. He froze.

In the three years he had known Sherlock, he had seen tears in the man's eyes; he had even watched them fall. But he had never heard a sound from Sherlock, let alone one of such despair. He had done that. John hated himself for that.

He couldn't decide whether to walk away and let Sherlock grieve as he should or go to him to comfort him. He wasn't sure whether he would be comforting Sherlock or himself, but he didn't feel he had the right to be near Sherlock at that moment. He turned to walk back into the living room.

"Please don't leave me, John," Sherlock begged through the sobs, "Please."

Decision made, John immediately stepped over to him and wrapped his arms around him as he dropped to his knees next to the small couch. He held Sherlock as he cried, the sobs wracking his body. They stayed that way for a long time.

As Sherlock's sobs continued, John berated himself for allowing things to get as bad as they had. He blamed himself for the pain Sherlock was currently in, but he knew that it wasn't completely his fault. He didn't care. He would fix it somehow.

After a while, John's knees began to hurt and he could feel the strain on his back. He moved to stand and Sherlock whimpered. He slid onto the edge of the lounge.

"Budge over, love," he said softly as he slid further onto the couch that was really too small for Sherlock let alone him.

Sherlock straightened himself out as he moved over slightly. John felt the tension ease out of Sherlock as he pulled John's arms tighter around him.

"I never would, you know," John said softly as he kissed the taller man on the back of his neck. Sherlock relaxed further as he took a deep breath and turned his head to look back at John.

"Thank you," he said with a small, unsure smile, his eyelashes wet from the fallen tears.

John leaned up and kissed his cheek.

"I love you," he whispered, "Nothing will change that. What happened-"

"John," Sherlock growled as his body tensed and he turned back to face the wall of windows, "drop it."

John knew better than to argue. He simply held Sherlock tightly and matched his breathing to his. He knew Sherlock was locking it all away back deep in the dungeon of his Mind Palace so that it would not interfere with his thoughts and deductions. But John knew he would never forget. For Sherlock, he would stuff down his anger and hatred of Sebastian Wilkes, but also for Sherlock, he would never, ever forget what he and those frat boys had done.

"John," Sherlock growled again, "Damn it, I said drop it."

"I'm not you, Sherlock, as you have told me repeatedly over the years," he chided gently, "I can't lock it away like you do, love. I would that I could."

He felt Sherlock tense again and continued quickly.

"I'm done talking about it, Sherlock," he said, "I swear I will never bring it up again. But it is going to take me some time to lock it away. But if you ever want to- But no, you never will. I already know that."

"John," Sherlock whispered so quietly that only the low rumble in his chest let John know he had spoken, "please."

John pulled Sherlock tighter, feeling like he couldn't hold him tight enough.

"Trust me, love," he murmured, his lips moving against the nape of Sherlock's neck as he spoke, "Just trust me to take care of it in my own time."

Sherlock was silent for a few minutes more before he responded, "I do, John. Just don't take too long, please?"

John chuckled and kissed the back of Sherlock's neck gently.

"I won't," he promised, "However, I think perhaps we need to get out of this room for a while."

John released Sherlock and rolled awkwardly off the lounge. Sherlock whinged and he sighed.

"For now, love," he said with a smile, "I think we need to get out of here and explore this town you've ensconced yourself in. And if we stay here, I will do something that I might regret."

Sherlock rolled to face him, his robe falling open. John had to close his eyes to avoid the rush of lust that ran through him at the sight of his mostly naked lover. He bit his tongue in order to not move. He could not touch Sherlock again so soon or he would lose his resolve to let their next time be different from the rough and tumble sex they'd had for the past twenty-four hours.

His eyes opened and he grinned like a loon. Sherlock looked at him questioningly.

"We've only been together for twenty-four hours and it feels like a lifetime," John explained, "A year ago, you would have never been able to tell me you love me…and I would not have either. But I look back to the day we met and can't understand how I didn't see it then."

Sherlock's grin melted all the sadness away as he said as he stood, "It's because you're an idiot, John."

John laughed and grabbed Sherlock's hand, pulling him into a tight hug.

"I am, aren't I?" he said as he held him tightly, "I really am."

Sherlock pulled away slightly and kissed John chastely at the corner of his mouth.

"We both are, John," Sherlock said softly, "We both are."

* * *

_Aww...dey're so cute! Ok...don't know where that silliness came from, but it's staying...Reviews are love people!_


	13. An Informative Walk

The walk from the hotel to the Jefferson Memorial along the Tidal Basis was brisk, but neither John nor Sherlock minded. It was like any other winter day in London, only sunnier.

John had noticed a thrilling phenomenon while on their trek. John had been used to always nearly running when he was with Sherlock. The taller man's long stride was about the length of one and a half of John's. Therefore, Sherlock was always slightly ahead of John and John was always rushing to keep up. But now, they walked side by side. Sherlock had slowed his pace to John's during the walk. John wasn't sure whether it had been intentional or not, but he grinned at it nonetheless as he reached out and grasped Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock started at the touch and looked down at their connected hands before he looked up at John and grinned as well. John leaned over as they walked and kissed his lover on the cheek. Their pace slowed and Sherlock wrapped his arms around John. John kissed his mouth longingly. As the kiss deepened, John thrilled at the thought that they were very openly, very publicly snogging. He thought about how Sebastian had never publicly kissed Sherlock in public before he pulled away grinning. Sherlock looked at him briefly, blinking owlishly for a moment before he turned to look at the statue of Thomas Jefferson that towered over them.

"This building was designed by John Russell Pope and built by the Philadelphia contractor John McShain. Construction of the building began in 1939 and was completed in 1943. The bronze statue of Jefferson was added in 1947. There was much controversy about so much of this memorial. It's a wonder it ever got built," Sherlock went on quickly. John recognized the nervousness for what it was, but let Sherlock continue, "Construction began on December 15, 1938 and the cornerstone was laid on November 15, 1939, by President Franklin Roosevelt. Pope had died in 1937 and his surviving partners, Daniel P. Higgins and Otto R. Eggers, took over construction of the memorial. The design was modified at the request of the Commission of Fine Arts to a more conservative design.

"Construction commenced amid significant opposition. The Commission of Fine Arts never actually approved any design for the Memorial and even published a pamphlet in 1939 opposing both the design and site of the Memorial. Many Washingtonians opposed the site because it was not aligned with L'Enfant's original plan. Many were upset because quite a few well established elm and cherry trees had to be removed for construction.

"In 1939, the Memorial Commission hosted a competition to select a sculptor for the planned statue in the center of the Memorial. They received 101 entries and chose six finalists. Of the six, Rudolph Evans was chosen as the main sculptor and Adolph A. Weinman was chosen to sculpt the pediment relief situated above the entrance.

"The Jefferson Memorial was officially dedicated by President Roosevelt on April 13, 1943, the 200th anniversary of Jefferson's birthday. At that time, Evans' statue had not yet been finished due to material shortages during World War II. The statue that was installed at the time was a plaster cast of Evans' work painted to look like bronze. The finished bronze statue was finally installed in 1947, having been cast by the Roman Bronze Company of New York.

One of the last American public monuments in the Beaux-Arts tradition, the Memorial was severely criticized even as it was being built, by those who adhered to the modernist argument that dressing 20th century buildings like Greek and Roman ones constituted a 'tired architectural lie.' More than seventy years ago, Pope responded with silence to critics who dismissed him as part of an enervated architectural elite practicing 'styles that are safely dead.' As a National Memorial it was administratively listed on the National Register of Historic Places on October 15, 1966."

"You sound like a Wikipedia page," John said on a giggle.

Sherlock tried to give him an affronted look, but the smile behind his eyes and the blush on his cheek betrayed him.

"It does, doesn't it?" Sherlock said on a smile.

"Yes," John said, "you wouldn't even know this, normally. Normally, you would have deleted it like you did the Solar System."

"We're not going to go on about that again, are we?" Sherlock said with a grin. John smiled back. It was one of their oldest and most silly arguments.

"Not today, Sherl," he smiled as he tugged on the hand that Sherlock had not untangled from his, "Today, I just want to listen to you talk as we enjoy the city."

"There is so much here to see, John," Sherlock said sincerely, "We could spend a lifetime here and never see it all."

John grabbed Sherlock's other hand and turned him to face him.

"That sounds like a great idea."

Sherlock's eyes softened for a moment before the resolve came back into them.

"We can't, John," he said seriously, "I have to destroy the rest of Moriarty's syndicate."

"We," John said gravely. When Sherlock looked at him in askance, John said again, "We have to destroy the rest of Moriarty's syndicate…You're not alone any more, love."

Sherlock smiled slightly, "Right. We. I do like the sound of it, John."

They looked at each other silently for a moment, thoughts of what was to come running through their heads. John hoped that Sherlock truly was including him in those plans. He finally turned away from the intense grey eyes and looked out over the Potomac River Tidal Basin and the surrounding tree-lined walkways.

"I would have thought there'd be more snow," John said with a smile, "It is Christmas, after all."

"Well, from what I have observed, John," Sherlock said, returning the smile, as they began walking away from the memorial building, "this part of the country doesn't get a whole lot of 'sticking snow' until much later in the season, around mid to late January and later. But it has also been unnaturally warm for this part of the country for most of the past year, so it has been exceedingly dry. We might be lucky and get a bit of snow tonight."

"Well, I hope it waits until we're back at the hotel. It might be beautiful to watch, but I don't think either of us are really dressed for it."

"We can keep each other warm," Sherlock said with a smile as he pulled John to him and turned them down the path to the next memorial. John wrapped his arm around Sherlock's waist and hugged him tightly as they walked together, Sherlock still matching his pace.

"Yes," John said lowly, "I'm sure we can."

* * *

**Yes, three, count them, THREE chapters in the same night! Don't get spoiled now! I know I've kept all my lovely readers waiting for what seems like forever and again, I apologize...I can only say that while I have been given SO many hundreds of ideas, Doc and I really have not had a whole lot of together time these past weeks...However, now that the boys are finally out of the room, Doc and I figured it was time to continue their other adventure: exploring the beautiful city of Washington, DC...**

**As always, love is very much welcome...as are reviews, comments, criticisms and critiques! You are loved...please return! ;-P**


	14. The FDR Memorial

**At long last, my lovlies! I got to do my research in real time this weekend and despite the ungodly heat of Washington, DC, it was a beautiful day and an even lovlier time...So, without much ado...**

He stood in the "sweet spot" and listened to the never-ending white noise that completely surrounded him. John breathed deeply, closed his eyes and let all his frustration and anger sink away.

The single-drop waterfall was the loudest of the series he and Sherlock had observed as they strolled through the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial. Each waterfall had been magnificent in its own way, each getting less and less turbulent as the moved closer and closer to the beginning of Roosevelt's presidency.

He started lightly when Sherlock grabbed his hand, pulling him off the edge of the waterfall.

"How do you do that?" he asked John bluntly, the curiosity prevalent in his eyes.

"Do what?" John asked with a smile.

"You washed it all away, didn't you? And yet you remember it all…How do you do that?"

John frowned and tilted his head.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"I just watched you shake off all the tension you've felt since-" Sherlock paused a moment, "All the anger you had is gone from you. I can see it in the way you are standing. You're relaxed, content even."

"I am," John said on a sigh, "I am content just being here with you."

"No," Sherlock said a little strongly, "I literally just watched your entire body relax while you stood on the edge of that waterfall. How did you do that?"

John grinned.

"It is easier to show you than to try to explain," he replied as he grabbed Sherlock's hand, "Come here."

He walked back up to the waterfall and found the "sweet spot", the spot on the edge of the waterfall within the containing walls that had the loudest yet most melodic sound of water falling. He stepped to the side and pulled Sherlock into it.

Sherlock looked at him, clearly confused.

"Close your eyes, love," he said, "and listen…Don't think, don't hear, just listen."

Sherlock did as he was told and closed his eyes. John watched as what he'd called Sherlock's "thinking face" eased and tensed as Sherlock tried to deduce what was happening.

"Stop, Sherlock," he said quietly beside him, "Stop thinking and just listen to the water."

Sherlock took a deep breath and John saw that he was trying to take the instruction. Suddenly, a look of awe washed over his countenance and his entire body relaxed. John wanted to reach out and grab his hand to encourage him, but he also didn't want to disturb the new discovery. As if he heard or understood, Sherlock reached out for John. Once their hands were grasped again, Sherlock sighed in contentment and looked over to John.

"Thank you," he said in awe, "That was amazing!"

John tilted his head again. Sherlock's face was relaxed. John say the young boy his love had once been.

"I know what it's like for me," he said, "But I do wonder what it did for you."

Sherlock looked at him for a moment and then smiled.

"They all went away," he said simply.

John frowned again.

"The thoughts, the ideas, the villains who are screaming in the dungeon. The sound all went away. Everything just quieted for the first time since- well, since I stopped using," he said. John could see his blush even in the quickly fading light, "But this was so much more peaceful and nearly instantaneous once I could stop trying to deduce it! Thank you!"

John smiled and leaned in to catch Sherlock's mouth up in a brief kiss.

"You are most welcome, my love," he said as he pulled Sherlock from the edge of the water.

They walked back the way they had come. Each waterfall they came to, Sherlock tried the new "silencing" technique that John had taught him. John noticed the experimental look on Sherlock's face and let him be, just enjoying watching Sherlock learn something new about himself and about the world. Sherlock didn't speak as they continued on, but he held John's hand whenever they proceeded to the next area.

Between the third major and final waterfall, they stopped at the statue of Mrs. Roosevelt and Sherlock scowled.

"Problem?" John asked in amusement.

"She doesn't belong here," Sherlock said gruffly.

"What do you mean?" John asked, feeling an argument coming on, "She was a very important lady not only to her husband, but to the world."

"I know," Sherlock said, "but no other monument or memorial I have read about or seen in this area represents the spouse of the figure being honored. Half the time, the wife isn't even mentioned."

"That's what makes her so special, Sherlock," John said with a grin, "She is mentioned and honored. She was a great representative to the United Nations. Eleanor Roosevelt as an extremely intelligent woman who helped a disabled man in a time where disability was weakness become one of the greatest presidents the United States has ever and probably will ever know. She would have given you a run for your money."

Sherlock scowled at him for a moment and John laughed.

"Don't look at me that way," John said with a smile, "I think you would have really liked her, from everything I read about Eleanor Roosevelt…but I don't know that she would have liked you all that much."

"Hey!" Sherlock said petulantly and then sobered and frowned at John again, "Why wouldn't she have liked me?"

"Because you're a pompous git who pouts when he doesn't get his way…Because you say things you shouldn't at the most inappropriate times…Because you're British, for a start."

Sherlock looked almost crestfallen and John immediately knew where his thoughts were headed.

"But despite all those things," John said as he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around the taller man, "I love you and I think she would have come to love you as well."

He leaned up and kissed Sherlock on the lips to stop his argument. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and returned the kiss before pulling away and leading John by the hand to the next and final "room" of the display.

The enormity of the multi-layered, multi-tiered waterfall had been overwhelming when they had first come upon it as they'd walked from the Jefferson Memorial. Now, after realizing it was the culmination of the entire area, John realised its absolute beauty. He took in the representation of the chaos that ruled the end of Roosevelt's life and career and breathed in a deep breath of the cool, crisp air that surrounded the area. He watched as Sherlock pulled away and stepped tentatively onto the stepping stones that had been placed in the middle of the waterfall enclosure.

He watched as he turned to face John before he closed his eyes. One last experiment. John observed Sherlock's face as he used the technique he had been shown to silence his Mind Palace. He stood still for a long time. John began to worry that perhaps the man had fallen asleep standing up when suddenly, Sherlock's eyes popped open and found John immediately.

John started at the suddenness and the intensity in his eyes.

Sherlock never took his eyes from John as he stepped from stone to stone back to the solid ground. He continued his movement straight to John and wrapped him in an engulfing hug.

"I love you, John," he whispered softly in his ear, "I love you. I never realised until this exact moment exactly how much, but I can't ever let you go."

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and felt the tears prickle behind his eyes. Whatever Sherlock had just experienced in that waterfall, something had solidified in him that he had never before realised. He lifted his head and offered his lips to Sherlock who took them hungrily.

It was the first honest passion Sherlock had shown since his break down and John took advantage of it. He nipped at Sherlock's lip and forced his tongue into the gap the gasp provided. When his tongue stroked Sherlock's, they both groaned. John felt Sherlock's cold hands slide under his jumper as he found the edge of the t-shirt Sherlock wore under his ugly green army jacket. Heatedly, they both clawed at each other, each trying to devour the other's mouth. The clearing of a ruff throat made them both start.

They pulled apart slightly and Sherlock rested his forehead against John's. Both of them panted heavily for a few moments before reluctantly, Sherlock looked up at the intruder. The scowl on his face would have cowed most men, but the park ranger scowled right back at him.

"You folks need to leave, sirs," he said gruffly, clearing his throat again before continuing, "I'm all for you being together, but ya can't make out like that…eh hmmm…especially since it looks like y'all were about to get down and dirty there."

John looked over at the ranger and did some deducing of his own. In his mid-thirties, dark hair, very light colored eyes and a shy smile that would have been perfect on the Mona Lisa, the United State Park Service ranger, whose name tag said he was called Chris was more than a little disappointed he had had to stop their "making out". Sherlock opened his mouth to speak and John quickly placed two fingers over his lips.

"Thank you, Officer," he said politely, "I apologize if we caused anyone any embarrassment. We've just been reunited and can barely keep our hands off each other."

The young man blushed slightly as he watched the two of them disengage slightly. Sherlock's mouth moved to smirk. John was sure that if he hadn't had his hand where it was Sherlock would have berated the man.

"We'll just go now," John said as he forcefully turned Sherlock away from the ranger and gently shoved him in the direction of the hotel.

"Congratulations," the ranger said wistfully, "He's quite the catch."

Before John could respond, Sherlock was back, his chest and legs pressed up against John's back his arms wrapped possessively around him.

"No," he said harshly, "he's the catch…I'm just the selfish, pompous git who has the absolute luck to have him love me!"

John inhaled sharply at Sherlock's harsh tone. Without thinking, he turned in Sherlock's arms and said in his best military voice, "Let's go, love. Now!"

They turned and walked away, heading to the nearest street to hopefully hail a cab. Once they were out of earshot of the ranger, John couldn't help but chuckle. Sherlock joined him and their laughter exploded as he hailed a cab back to the hotel.

* * *

_Seemed longer as I wrote it, but I could have also dragged this chapter out for days...If you are EVER in the Washignton, DC area, please do yourself a favor and go see this most beautiful of memorials! It is breathtaking and awe inspiring! And the neat little trick that John taught Sherlock...it really does work! Every waterfall has a sweet spot for white noise...that point where you hear absolutely nothing but the rushing water. I found each one in all four of the major waterfalls and it was so amazing how fabulous I felt after immersing myself in that sound for even a couple minutes!_

_Anyway, please drop me a review, let me know what you think...let me know how you feel..._


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